The 74th Annual Hunger Games
by abbyli
Summary: It's that time of the year again. Dean and Sam prepare for the Reaping. It's Sam's first year and Dean's second to last. He doesn't think either of them will be drawn to compete. But then, his world comes crashing down. Sam's name is called.
1. Morning

_**Morning**_

* * *

His brother's cries woke him out of a sound sleep.

Sitting up in bed, seventeen year old Dean Winchester blearily rubbed his eyes. In the lightening dimness, he could make out his younger brother's form, laying curled up in a ball on his mattress and tears streaking down his face.

Dean swung his long legs off the bed and crossed the small room in three strides, gently placing a hand on Sam's arm.

"Sammy, wake up. Wake up!"

Sam's eyes shot open and he breathed a sigh of relief at Dean's face. He quickly sat up and threw his arms around his brother's neck, hugging the life out of him.

"It was me. They picked my name," he whispered brokenly into his brother's neck.

Dean's arms looped around his small brother, pulling him close to his chest. "It's your first year, Sam. They're not going to pick you," he murmured in his shaggy hair. He could feel Sam's tears soaking his collarbone but didn't care.

"But what if they do? What if they pick you?" Sam asked tiredly, his face still buried in Dean's chest.

"If they pick me, they pick me. But it's so doubtful. My name's not in there many times and your name is only in there once. They are not going to pick you," he said, gently pulling Sam away from him so their eyes could meet.

Sam sighed. "Why is this happening? Why?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders sadly. "I don't know, midget. I don't know."

* * *

After Sam finally dropped back off to sleep, Dean slowly began to dress. He pulled on his father's old hunting boots and a strong leather jacket that his mother had scrimped and saved to buy him the previous year. It was about two sizes too large but Mary had told him that she had done that on purpose so he would grow into it. Dean loved the old jacket, it being one of his most prized possesions.

He carefully slipped through the house, passing his father's bedroom silently. He didn't want to wake John Winchester up before it was time. As soon as he made it for the front door, he heard a snarl and a long hiss.

Glancing down, he saw Sam's mangy old mutt, Bones. The dog was glaring at him with such hate but Dean couldn't blame him. He remembered when Sam had rescued the pathetic creature and brought it home. Dean had wanted to shoot it immediately and put it out of it's misery but after Sam had threatened to never speak to him again, he had helped his gentle brother nurse the puppy back to health. Bones was now a healthy but still quite hateful animal.

"I'll still cook you, old bird," he said, shaking his head before pushing the creaky door open and escaping around the back.

* * *

Welcome to District 12 of Panem.

A coal miner's dream was to live here, work here, and die here. And so many did. A horrible accident three years before had claimed the lives of so many men, including the one of Daniel Braeden. Daniel Braeden was Lisa Braeden's father. And Lisa Braeden was Dean Winchester's best friend.

Dean ran silently in the chilly morning air, winding a very familiar path through the woods. Twigs and leaves crunched under his feet, joining in with the already beaten down trail that he had taken so many time before.

He reached a clearing that lead into quite the beautiful meadow. Sometimes he and Sam would come here and eat lunch when school let out early. But he never took Sam farther than the meadow. Because running down the side, right through the center, was the longest, the biggest, and scariest looking electric fence that held a large sign.

**DO NOT CROSS. LIVE WIRES.**

Of course, being Dean Winchester and the risk taker, he would check the fence regularly, listening for the hum to see if it was activated. Only once in a great while it would be, he would be able to get through and deeper into the woods.

He listened for the hum and heard none. Sliding his leg through, he ducked his head under and landed with a soft thud on the other side of the fence. Running faster and picking up the windy speed behind him, Dean finally felt that peaceful freedom starting to set in. It was hard to feel this way, especially living in District 12.

About twenty yards into the second selection of woods, he came to an large maple tree that had a hollowed out center covered with leaves. Pushing the dead leaves out of the way, Dean extracted a long silky bow and a quiver full of arrows. He never hunted with anything else.

It was illegal to hunt in District 12. If you were caught hunting, you could be shot on sight. It was actually considered mercy if you were brought to the town square and brutally whipped and left for dead.

And for a long time, especially after his mother Mary's death and his father's illness, Dean never did. But following a turning point in his life, he realized that he had to try something else to survive. That was when he bought his first bow off the black market after managing to snare enough rabbits to sell. He learned quickly and that bow had become his salvation.

* * *

Aiming high, he could see the groosling's hiding spot.

"Aw, don't shoot him. He's cute!" chirped a familiar voice behind him, startling him out of his wits and letting the arrow fly much higher and missing the bird.

"Damn you, Lisa!" Dean snarled, turning and facing his dark haired friend.

Lisa let out a shout of laughter. "It's not often you can scare Dean Winchester."

"Not funny. That was going to be our dinner tonight," he snapped as he began to climb the tree to where the arrow had lodged itself.

"Dean, that arrow-"

"Got it!" he announced triumphantly, promptly snatching the arrow out of the bark and leaping with a faint thump into the dirt.

Lisa stepped back, shaking her head and grinning. "You are such a-"

"Such a what, Braeden?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Nothing, Winchester. Absolutely nothing."

* * *

"How's Sam?"

Dean sighed, running his knife over the tip of the arrow. "He's terrified. He woke up screaming this morning, having dreamt that they picked him."

"Sarah's like that. She's so scared," whispered Lisa. Sarah was her twelve year old cousin that had moved in with them after her parents' death in a car accident the year before. Her name was automatically placed in the bowl for the Games.

"How many times is your name in there?" Dean asked, glancing over at his friend.

"Forty-two."

"Forty-two?" Dean repeated, glaring furiously at her.

"Dean, we're supporting six children at home. I couldn't hunt enough rabbits to keep up," Lisa snapped, not looking at him.

When a family would need more grains, they would go to the town and collect tessarae. But when more was collected, the kid's name would go into the bowl another time. Both Dean and Lisa had down that several times, although now Dean hadn't done it as many as Lisa had.

"You?" she asked, finally bringing her eyes to meet his.

"Twenty."

"I think the odds are more in your favor than mine."

"Still, there's hundreds of names in those bowl."

Lisa shrugged one shoulder, leaning her head back so the sun could catch her neck.

"All I know is that Sam and Sarah will _not _be picked."

* * *

It was ten in the morning and the town square was filled with people. He knew better than to trot right through with his four rabbits and the grooslings, so he scooted through a back walkway to the back door of the bakery. Knocking lightly with his knuckles, he stepped away and awaited for the baker Harvelle to answer.

Only Mr. Harvelle didn't. His daughter, Joanna did.

"Dean, hey," smiled the young blonde. He never did know Jo Harvelle too well but she was always very pleasant and very kind. He had known her since they were kids but had never gotten closer to her personally. She would occasionally buy a rabbit off of him herself if she was trying a new recipe. Not only was she an amazing baker like her father, she was a magnificent chef either way. He had sampled her different stews and soups a couple of times but had to stop for fear he would try to steal the whole pot.

"Hey, Jo. How are you?" he greeted warmly as she stepped back to allow him access with his kills.

"I'm good. Papa and I have been busy with the new shipment of cakes so that's why he sent me to let you in," smiled the girl. "What do you have for us?"

Dean held up his line of kills, all perfectly intact. Jo's eyes widened in appreciation and she cleared off the table so he could set them down.

"It amazes me how you can always get such a clean shot through the eye," she said.

"Lots of hard work," said Dean. "It amazes me how you make those damn cakes so high," he eyed the beginnings of one that was across the way on the opposing counter.

Jo chuckled. "Lots of hard work."

At that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Mr. and Mrs. Harvelle stepped through. Bill Harvelle, the large jolly man with the twinkling eyes, greets him fondly.

"Dean! What do you have for me today?" he trilled. Dean stepped back and allowed the elder man access to the kills that lay perfectly aligned on the countertop.

Ellen Harvelle was much smaller than her husband. Jo had definitely inherited her stature from her mother. She had a kind face and motherly eyes.

"How's your daddy doing, Dean?" she asked quietly, her voice gentle.

"He's getting by." Barely alive.

"And Sammy? How's he handling today?"

Sam actually didn't mind Ellen calling him Sammy. He once told Dean that it reminded him of Mary.

Dean shrugged again. "He's getting by too. He's scared but determined to keep it together."

"Send him our love, will you?" asked Ellen.

"Of course."

At that moment, he felt a wad of bills being pressed into his hand.

"I'll take the lot. Except for the one groosling. Had a feeling that's your dinner tonight," said Bill.

Dean stared at the money in his hand. He hadn't seen this much in Heaven knows how long. "Mr. Harvelle, I can't take this-"

"Nonsense. Winter's coming. You can get Sam that new coat that he's been eyeing," said Ellen.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," He couldn't believe his luck.

* * *

After a few more minutes of chatter with the elder Harvelles, Dean finally slipped out the back door. To his surprise, he found Jo sitting on the steps, something small in her hands. It looked like she was trying to put a thread through a small hole on a piece of metal. Looking closer, he realized he was looking at an amulet of a god's head. He remembered learning about gods and goddesses in his classes before he had to leave school to feed his family. It was always quite an interesting subject to him.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" he asked her as he walked down the back steps. The dead groosling was slung over his shoulder, his money firmly in his pocket.

"Oh, I bought this on the black market. Don't tell Mom and Papa because they'll kill me for doing it. It fascinated me," she said, holding up the now threaded necklace.

Dean eyed the piece. It was quite large, almost the size of a nickel and it looked quite heavy.

"Mind if I see it?"

"Course not."

She handed the necklace over to him. He turned it over in his hands, examining it in the light.

"Keep it."

The voice alarmed him and he looked up. "Excuse me?"

"You obviously like it. Keep it," smiled Jo.

"Really?"

She laughed again. "Or give it to Sam. Do whatever you want with it."

Dean stared at this girl, unable to figure her out. "Thank you, Jo."

"You're welcome."

"Jo!" Her name was called from inside the cottage. She leapt gracefully to her feet.

"Gotta go."

With that, she was gone, the rickety old house swallowing her whole.

* * *

Throughout his whole life, only two people had ever touched him dearly.

Lisa Braeden was the best friend he ever had. She was funny, sweet, tough, and quite the excellent hunter. She had taught him everything he had ever known about hunting and wasn't surprised when he became better at her. She had helped him learn how to surive.

Jo Harvelle had been the person who had kept him alive at a very young age.

It hadn't been long after Mary's death. John had retreated into his shell and would sit for hours on an end staring into nothingness. Whatever supplies that they had left were gone quickly.

An eleven year old Dean tried to sell some of Sam's old baby clothes in the town square. Everyone turned him away, ignoring him and leaving him standing. Only he didn't stand very long once the rain began banging down.

It was over. He was going to die.

He sank to his knees in the mud, allowing the rain to soak him through. He was exhausted and ready to die alone in the rain.

He was giving up.

But at that moment, two loaves of slightly burnt bread fell in the water in front of him. He looked up in time to see a sheet of blond hair disappearing back inside the baker's house, the door slamming behind her.

Jo.

And it was from then on, he fought to survive.

It was two weeks later he met Lisa.

* * *

He dressed slowly, pulling on a crisp clean shirt and a pair of dark brown slacks. He yanked his hunting boots back on and ran a hand through his tousled sandy blond hair.

There was a tiny knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, glancing over his shoulder.

John Winchester stepped through the doorway, Sam flanking him. Sam was dressed in a clean white shirt and a pair of deninum jeans. His shaggy dark hair was white and slicked back over his head.

"Hey, midget," Dean greeted him.

Sam turned red. "Don't call me that, Dean. Or should I say, gigantor?"

Dean chuckled. "Just wait, kid. You'll be catching up with me soon."

John remained in the doorway, watching his sons with a small content expression on his face. Dean couldn't miss that.

"Hey, I've got something for you," he said, pulling the small amulet out of his pocket. He held it up and Sam inspected it in the afternoon light. "It's supposed to be magical," he invented wildly. "It will protect you."

Sam took the amulet and slipped the cord over his head. "Protect me from getting Reaped?"

"Protect you _if _you get Reaped. And you are not getting Reaped," Dean's voice was a little more forceful.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean gently scuffed a hand over the top of his head, causing his stiffened hair to skid up slightly. Smiling, he padded it back down and looked over at his father.

"I'll see you there after the Reaping," John murmured quietly.

"Will you come to the Reaping?" asked Sam.

"Yes," said John.

"We'll see you after," said Dean. He gently tugged on Sam's arm. "Come on, Sammy. Let's go."

* * *

Every group was lined up by age. The older kids, ages eighteen were in the back while the new twelve year olds were in the front. They were separated by sexes, boys on one side and girls on the other.

Sam remained stuck to his side as they made their way into the crowd of kids, brushing past the parents that were alreadying gathering off to the side. Dean could see John approaching from the a few yards away. Ellen Harvelle had glimpsed him too and was waving him over. John shot her a grateful glance and joined her and Bill.

Lisa had beat them there. She was already standing amongst the other seventeen year old girls, her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail and a light blue dress adorning her thin frame. She gave them a low wave and turned back towards the front.

He gently released Sam from his side and gave him a push. Sam gave him his famous wide eyed puppy dog look before slowly shuffling up to the front.

"Welcome, welcome. So nice to see so many smiling faces here today!" came a freakishly familiar voice. Looking up, he could see the clowned up Meg at the microphone at the stage. Meg was the District 12's escort for the past five years of tributes. She would leave with a boy and a girl between the ages of 12 and 18 and would return alone.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the 74th Hunger Games!"

In the past twenty five years, there hadn't been a single winner. But in the 50th Hunger Games, a man named Bobby Singer had won the Second Quarter Quell. That was when, at every 25 year anniversary, the Capitol would send two extra tributes from each district, so there would be forty-eight tributes fighting instead of twenty-four. Bobby had won by skill but also by remaing away from everyone and waiting until they had all picked each other off. In the end, it had been him and a girl from District 1. In a bloody fight, Bobby had been left standing.

Dean ignored the film that played, showing past clips of the past Hunger Games. Even though he was a hunter, he still had trouble watching any kind of blood, guts, and gore. He found his eyes looking for Lisa again and she had a similar look on her face that he was sure he had. She gave him a gentle wink and a little smile.

Finally, the movie came to an end and President Azazel took the stage. He gave a short speech about the honor of being picked to compete in the Hunger Games and how the single victor would be left with riches beyond his wildest dreams. He then introduced District 12's only surviving victor, Bobby Singer.

Every year, Bobby would show up drunk at the Reaping, would barely be able to get two words out, and then either fall of the stage or throw up on someone. Dean wondered what he would do this year.

Bobby staggered up to the microphone, blearily looking out over the crowd of children. He gave one big stupid wave and let out a belch that was magnified twelve times through the microphone. Then with a quick motion, he fell headfirst off the stage and into the pit.

Dean rolled his eyes, not even bothering to try to assist the drunk as he pulled himself to his feet. A few other kids and white clad Capitol guard members assisted him and he got back up to the stage, sinking into the victor's chair that had been set up for him.

"Well, now that _that's _over," said Meg with a shiver of disgust. "Let us begin! And may the odds _ever _be in your favor." She stepped over to the large bowl that held the girl's names. "As always, ladies first."

She gracefully plunged her hand into the bowl, shifting the many namees around with her talon like finger nails. Her index finger and her thumb grasped onto one piece and pulled it out. She unwrapped the paper and cleared her throat.

"Joanna Beth Harvelle."

What?

A wail of agony rippled through the group of parents. Turning slightly, he could see Ellen Harvelle being held back by her husband and by his father as she tried to make for her daughter who was now slowly shuffling towards the stage.

Jo...Jo...

It couldn't be. Damn it, it couldn't be. She was too kind, too quiet. She wouldn't be able to survive in this. She would probably die the first day at the Cornucopia. And with the drunk Bobby Singer as her mentor!

Oh, poor Jo.

"Come, come girl. Come on, it's okay," said Meg, holding out a hand to Jo as she slowly ascended the stairs. "Now, your name is Joanna Beth Harvelle?"

"Yes," she whispered into the microphone, her voice barely audible.

"And what do you do?"

"I'm Bill Harvelle's daughter."

"Oh, so you're the baker's daughter?"

"Yes."

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Sixteen. She had been ten years old when she had saved his life. He had never even bothered to find out her age.

"Well, soon, you are going to be having the experience of a lifetime!" Meg trilled. "Now, let us pick the boy that will be joining you in that arena!"

Dean had the sudden urge to vomit at that moment.

She walked over to the large glass bowl that held all the boys's names. He suddenly remembered that his name was in there twenty times. The odds were not in his favor. He just knew it.

She pulled a name out of the bowl and held up. She cleared her throat again and said the name with just as much splendor as she said Jo's.

"Sam Winchester."

* * *

**Heehee, cliffhanger! I know you all saw that coming. **

**Well, this is an idea that fell in my lap a few nights ago while discussing The Hunger Games with my mother and I fell in love with it. I thought it would be such an interesting idea (well, to me at least) to have all the characters of Hunger Games replaced with the characters of Supernatural, so in that, Dean is Katniss, Jo is Peeta, Lisa is Gale, Bobby is Haymitch, etc. etc. I hope everyone agrees with my choices. And I hope everyone likes the story. **

**Chapter two will be up soon. Of course, it will open with Dean's reaction to Sam's reaping. And in case nobody understand (not trying to call anyone stupid), Dean is seventeen, Jo is sixteen, Lisa is seventeen, and Sam is twelve. **

**Well, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews are so immensely loved! I do hope you will grace me with them. **

**I will assure you, over the course of the story, many of the Hunger Games's main events will take place. But I am not copying Hunger Games word for word. So many other things will take place with my own spin on them. **

**I do not in any way own The Hunger Games or Supernatural. That honor belongs to Suzanne Collins and Eric Kripke. **


	2. Goodbye

_**Goodbye**_

* * *

Sam Winchester.

Sam Winchester.

_Sam Winchester. _

The name rang out in his head like the rhythm of the war drums. He couldn't believe he had just heard that name. It must be a mistake. It _had _to be a mistake.

It was his brother's tiny moving figure that pulled him out of his daze.

"No! Sam!" He let out a shout, moving towards his brother. Sam cast an alarmed glance in his direction and stopped for a second. "Sam!" Capitol guard members grabbed him and pushed him away. "No! No! I volunteer! I VOLUNTEER!"

A gasp rippled through the crowd. The Capitol guards stepped away.

"I volunteer as tribute."

"NO!" Sam's cry of anguish was more painful than anything he had ever heard in his whole entire life. He barreled into his brother's arms, his arms holding him around the waist so tightly that Dean almost couldn't breathe.

"Sam, listen to me! Listen to me!" Dean went down on his knees before his little brother. Another figure quickly joined them. He recognized Lisa's presence without even turning around. "Go with Lisa and find Dad, all right? I will see you later. I promise, Sammy."

"Dean, don't go!" He sobbed as Dean dislodged his arms from around him.

"I have to, Sammy," he murmured as he pulled Sam free and carefully handed him off to Lisa. Lisa's arms tightened around the small boy and she scooped him up. The last thing Dean saw was Sam's terrified eyes peeking at him over Lisa's shoulder.

"Dean!"

With his heart so heavy that it could have fallen in his stomach, Dean slowly made his way up to the stage, escorted by two Capitol guards.

"Well, well, well. District 12's first ever volunteer!" Meg trilled happily. "What is your name, dear boy?"

His voice was just like Jo's. Small and terrified.

"Dean Winchester."

"I'm gathering that little Sam Winchester is your brother."

"Yes."

"And how old are you, Dean Winchester?"

"Seventeen. Almost eighteen." His birthday was in less than a month actually. He realized then he might not live to see it.

"Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen! District 12's tributes Joanna Beth Harvelle and Dean Winchester! Why don't we give them a big hand?"

Of course, not a single person applauded. As Dean watched, he could see everyone's hands starting to rise up in the salute of District 12, honoring the two children that were most likely to lose their lives in a matter of weeks.

"Now, shake hands," whispered Meg, gesturing between the two of them. "It's okay."

Dean finally got the courage to look at Jo. Her face was serene and unmoving. He couldn't read her at all. Then, to his surprise, she held out a hand to him. That was when he saw that the tips of her fingers were trembling.

He took her hand and shook it. Both of them let go rather quickly.

That was when they were taken away. Well, not taken away as in escorted into the Capitol building, followed by a staggering Bobby Singer and a stoic President Azazel.

* * *

He paced the small room, ready to tear his hair out. What the hell was he doing?

He was saving his brother's life.

At his own life's expense.

He was probably going to have to kill Jo in the end. The girl that had kept him alive that stormy afternoon. Or she would have to kill him. Either way, they were both dead.

At that moment, the door flew open and Lisa was shoved inside.

"You have three minutes," snapped another guard as he slammed the door behind her.

"Fine!" she snarled in the guard's direction. "Oof!" She was then nearly knocked over as Dean threw himself into her arms. "You okay?"

"What the hell-?" his voice was caught in his throat.

"Listen to me, Dean. Listen for a second," she carefully pulled him away from her so their eyes could meet. "You are a fighter, Dean. You will be all right."

"There's twenty four of us, Lisa. Only one comes out," he whispered.

"Then make sure it's you."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Get to a bow."

"What?"

"Get to a bow."

"There may not be a-"

"Then make one. A weak one is better than nothing at all. You are the best hunter I have ever known. You can survive that way," she assured him quickly.

A lump quickly formed in his throat, lodging tightly.

"I'm scared," he admitted quietly, thinking that Lisa didn't hear him. Of course, she did.

She didn't say anything. She reached out a hand and quickly grabbed his. His fingers tightened around her palm. He then pulled her into a tight hug.

"Take care of Sammy. Keep an eye on him for me, make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble. Please-please don't let them starve."

Lisa's voice broke as she embraced him back. "I will do whatever I can," she promised. "It will only be for a couple of weeks and then you will be home again."

He wasn't so sure.

The door opened and Lisa was grabbed and escorted out.

"Remember Dean, I-"

Her voice was gone before he could catch what she was saying.

* * *

The tiny boy catapulted himself into his arms, burying his face in his chest with such force that he thought he was going to crawl inside of him.

"It's okay," Dean soothed quietly. "It's okay."

"You shouldn't have done this, Dean. You should have let me go," said Sam, tears shining in his eyes.

Dean gently disentangled himself from his brother so he could go down on his knees. "Listen to me, Sammy," he began. "It's my job to protect you. To do whatever I can to keep you safe and happy. What else would I have done?"

Sam shook his head. "Can't you let me save you once in a while?"

"What?"

"You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Sometimes, Sam sounded so much older than he was.

Then, he pulled his amulet off over his head, placing the head in Dean's palm.

"For you. To protect you in there," the miniature boy murmured.

Dean stared at the gift. He looked back into his brother's large eyes and quickly placed a kiss on his forehead. "Thank you." He quickly slipped the cord over his head. The amulet was cold against his neck. It slid down and rested against his heart.

"You have to win, Dean. Promise me you will win," said Sam, his voice quite small.

Dean stared at him, unable to really register what he had just heard or what was going to come out of his mouth. "I promise."

* * *

Sam had been sent back outside to where Braedens were. Malinda Braeden had assured Dean and John that she would help out in any way she could, despite the fact that she already had six children she was caring for. Dean knew that Lisa would be there every step of the way.

He was alone with John. Both men just stared at each other for several moments before Dean approached his father, looking him square in the eye.

"Now you listen to me," he said a little more forcefully than he had intended. "You need to be there for Sam. He is going to need you more than ever now," he began. "You cannot disappear. You cannot run away. I am not going to be there to clean up your messes anymore. You have to be there, all right?"

John nodded wordlessly, looking more terrified than Dean had ever seen him in his entire life.

"Lisa will help out as much as she can but she cannot feed her family and ours. Don't let Sam sign up for tessarae; it will only add his name to the bowl. You do it, you get the grain, you hunt, you do whatever you can to keep him alive. Keep him safe," Dean continued.

John nodded again. His eyes were quickly filling up with tears and in a haste, he tried to thumb them away. Dean ignored them and quickly threw his arms around his father, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, Dad."

* * *

It was all slowly being ripped away from him.

Sam.

Lisa.

His father.

The Harvelles.

His home.

All of it was ripped out of his arms and out of his grasp. He was now someone's property. Their piece in the game.

The Capitol's toy.

* * *

He hated himself for doing this. But he had to be prepared. he had to know what his competition was going to be like.

On the television screen, coverage of the other eleven Reapings was being shown. It trickled away through all the Districts, a few of them standing out very well.

District 1, a beautiful black haired girl with wide blue eyes was chosen. She was maybe seventeen and gorgeous. Dean couldn't help but check her out. But when the camera focused on her face, all Dean could see was loathing and hate. A black boy, maybe sixteen was chosen as the male tribute. He had that same expression that the female had, loathing and hate. District 1 was always the wealthiest district out of the twelve so it was likely that these two, Dean didn't catch their names, were huge competition. In other words, quite dangerous.

In District 2, the Reaping didn't even occur. The two tributes volunteered immediately. The male looked about the same age as Dean, maybe a little older. Just by looking at him, Dean could see that he had been training for this his whole life and had been waiting to volunteer. The girl was small, so small that she didn't look like she would be much of a threat. But when the camera closed in on her, it was again another sliver of hatred and also excitement for the Games ahead.

Dean didn't pay much attention to Districts 3 and 4. It was normal for Districts 1, 2, and 4 to ally during the Games, creating a Career pack. Most of the time, it would wind up being down to them at the end and it would be quite the bloodbath. He remembered a Games three years ago where it had been between a District 1 boy and a District 2 girl. The boy wound up winning but only due to the girl dying of blood loss.

When District 5 was shown, Dean caught sight of a girl, maybe fifteen, with bright red hair that fell past her shoulders. She had angular features that resembled a fox. Like a fox on fire. She was chosen as the female tribute while a thirteen year old boy was chosen as the male.

Districts 6 through 10 didn't show much that he was interested in. When District 11 rolled around, he was coming close to flipping the television off when he caught sight of the two tributes. First chosen was a tall, dark haired blond girl by the name of Rachel. She was the max age, eighteen years old. District 11 was known for their agriculture so it was normal for everyone to be very strong but this girl, she was almost butch.

Then the boy was chosen.

For a split second, he thought it was Sam.

Twelve years old, dark brown shaggy hair, an adorable little face. He was Sam in a nutshell.

"Dean?"

"Look at this." Dean reached up and grabbed Jo's arm, pulling her down on the sofa beside him. She watched as the end of the Reaping took place, the escort giving a big stupid round of applause for Rachel and a little boy named Ben.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, leaning forward to stare at the screen.

"It's Sam," he choked out, unable to keep his emotions in check anymore.

Jo turned to watch his face. Compassion flitted over her pretty features and she gently touched his arm. "It's not Sam, Dean. Sam's safe at home."

"There were three others like him, Jo. Two more boys and a little girl. Did any of them have people step up and volunteer for them?" asked Dean, looking at her. "No. Nobody gave a damn."

Jo fell silent, her eyes trailing over to the television screen again. This time, their Reaping was being shown.

Dean watched as Jo's name was drawn out of the bowl, Meg announcing it happily to the crowd. He noticed Ellen Harvelle trying to dash forward to grab her daughter but Bill Harvelle holding her back and allowing her to break down in his arms. He hadn't really even heard Ellen cry out for her daughter, having been wrapped up in his own thoughts and fears.

He winced when Sam's name was called. He watched himself let out a yell and start screaming like a banshee.

"Wow..."

Dean finally pulled his eyes away from the screen to stare at Jo. She blushed and looked away.

"Sorry. It's just that I was there while this was going on but they made it look even more haunting on this stupid TV. You are already being called 'the brave one' for saving your brother," she said.

"Yeah, and just my luck, I'll die in this and Sam's name will be drawn next year," Dean mumbled.

Jo lightly slapped his shoulder. "Don't think like that, Dean. Don't ever think like that. Whatever happens to us, our families will be okay."

"How are you so positive?" asked Dean.

Jo shrugged. "I learned to be positive a really long time ago. A little boy in the rain taught me that."

* * *

It was either his worst nightmare or an incredible dream.

The buildings were enormous. They stretched into the sky, so high that he was sure that they went on forever.

"Oh, my..."

"I know," whispered a voice at his elbow. Dean glanced down and met Jo's brown eyes, seeing the exact same emotions reflecting in her eyes that he was sure was written all over his face.

"We will be there soon," said Meg from behind them. "The tribute building is beautiful. And because you are the twelfth district, you get the penthouse."

"Yay," murmured Dean under his breath. Jo heard the tone in his voice and chuckled quietly. A loud burp coming from Bobby Singer immediately ruined the moment.

* * *

"So, day after tomorrow will be the chariot parade," said Meg that evening at dinner.

The penthouse was quite large and spacey. It was beautiful, no doubt. Dean and Jo had rooms across the hall from each other, both of them inadvertently picking the rooms without the other knowing until later. Bobby and Meg had resumed the rooms that they had occupied for the past several years. The thought suddenly struck Dean that Bobby had come back here for the past 24 years accompanied by the escort and a young boy and girl. He would leave a month later by himself.

"Chariot parade?" Dean suddenly choked on the hot coffee that he had been drinking.

Every single year, before the tributes would begin their training, there would be a chariot parade for the tributes. The stylists would dress the tributes to display what their district stood for. For example, District 1 was luxury so they would be dressed in extravagant, shiny clothing. District 12 were miners and one year they had been totally naked but coated with coal.

"You both have individual stylists. Dean, you will be with Castiel and Joanna, yours is a young woman named Becky. They are both brand new stylists, last years' having quit quite suddenly."

Last year's tributes had died within the first ten minutes of being released into the arena. The Cornucopia bloodbath had been...well, quite the bloodbath.

"When do we meet them?" asked Jo.

"Tomorrow morning. You will be put through quite the cleaning that the two of you desperately need," answered Meg.

Dean rolled his eyes, glancing at the clothing that adorned his body. On the train, he had used the shower and changed into a pair of dark blue jeans, his old hunting boots, and a black sweatshirt. His amulet remained hidden underneath the thick cotton, pressed against his heart. Jo was now in a pair of slacks and a yellow sweater, her dark blond curls pulled back at the base of her neck. She looked fine to him. In fact, she was very pretty.

"Pfft, it's a waste of time," came a grumble from the mess of graying hair across the table.

Meg, Dean, and Jo raised their eyes to take the aging man in.

"Excuse me?" asked Dean.

"For the past 24 years, it's been the same. Getting them all prettied up and they die on the first day in there," snarled Bobby. He adjusted the moldy hat on top of his head and took another snort from his brandy glass.

"Who says that we will die the first day?" snapped Dean. He was getting tired of getting looks of pity every time an Avox came into the apartment, whenever Meg talked about what was to come; she had a look of slight sadness in her eyes.

"Well, boy, what have you got to show me?" asked Bobby. He glanced at Jo. "Girlie?"

"I'd appreciate you not calling me that," snarled Jo.

"She can lift 100 pound sacks of flour," Dean immediately interjected. "She's very strong."

"Dean, you're making me sound like a guy."

"It's the truth though. I've seen you lift that stuff at the bakery. Also, she's very intricate in design. She'd probably be good in camoflauge."

Jo rolled her eyes. "If you want good, Dean is a magnificent shooter. Some of the animals that he brings to my dad, either the eye or the brain is shot clean through."

Bobby's bushy eyebrows raised. "Illegal hunting, boy?"

Dean shot Jo the dirtiest look that he could muster before facing Bobby. "And what's it to you? You remain holed up in that victor's house, drinking your sorrows away. I'm surprised you're still alive-"

He saw the knife coming.

Dean snatched it out of mid air as it soared at his shoulder. It was a small shelling out knife, wouldn't have done much damage even if it had hit him. He twisted the knife between his fingers and threw it right back. It took Bobby Singer's hat right off the top of his head and nailed it right to the wall.

Meg let out a shriek and clapped her hands over her mouth. She stared from Bobby to Dean, afraid of what was coming next. Jo had sat back in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. She had a self satisfied smirk on her face. Just by one glance, Dean could tell she had stewed this whole thing up in her head.

Bobby looked at his hat and his knife sticking out of it. He then looked at Dean's irritated face and finally let a chuckle come out of his belly.

"Well, well, well. It seems like I've finally got a couple of good ones this year."

* * *

**It seemed better for me to add in something different instead of doing what the movie and the book did. Katniss got so angry at Haymitch on the train that when he reached for his booze, she planted a knife right between his fingers. Here, it seemed more plausible (to me) that Bobby would get irritated at Dean's big mouth and would throw a knife at him. And of course, Dean being Dean, would snatch it out of mid-air and throw it back, catching his hat and pinning it to the wall. This simple act will come into play later in their training.**

**All right, well, here's chapter 2 of The 74****th**** Annual Hunger Games. Hope you enjoyed and reviews are quite necessary in my opinion. :)**** Next chapter will be the chariot parade and training. The chapter following that will be much shorter with just the interviewers and getting ready for what is to come. These chapters will introduce a lot more characters that we are familiar with on Supernatural but now we have to become familiar with here. You'll see a lot of familiar faces taking the places of the people in the Hunger Games. And then the chapter after that will begin the actual Games. I do hope you enjoy! **

**Thanks! Abbyli**


	3. Tributes

_**Tributes**_

* * *

It was hereby the most uncomfortable experience of his life.

He was being pulled, plucked, groomed, and gelled in places that should never be touched by anyone but him. What really pissed him off was that they took his amulet away.

Then they left him alone in a room with just a gurney and a couple of mirrors. He was pretty sure that these were two way mirrors and tried very hard not to move very much.

Suddenly, the door opened and in walked a young man. He looked about thirty years old, dark wavy hair, and blue eyes. He wore normal clothing, as opposed to some of the outlandish outfits he had seen in his wee 24 hours at the Capitol, only dark blue slacks and a white v-neck sweater. The only odd thing about him was the small sapphire nose stud.

"Hello, Dean. I'm Castiel," said the man as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"You're Castiel?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raising. "Sorry but I was kind of expecting someone that looked like a bird. After seeing Jo's stylist-"

The young man cracked a smile and lowered his arms, crossing the room with three strides. "All of us here, we all have our different ways."

"So, you're here to make me look 'pretty'?" asked Dean, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

"I'm here to help you make an impression. After Bobby told me what you did yesterday, it'll be interesting."

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes again. "The jerk made me mad."

"That's Bobby Singer. He makes everybody mad," chuckled Castiel.

"So did you get stuck with District 12?"

"In fact, I asked for them," said Castiel. "They're are an overlooked District and I wanted to help."

"Help us look ridiculous for that damn tribute parade?"

* * *

Leather cloaked him from throat to toe. It was wrapped so tight around him that he could barely breathe. But at least he wasn't naked.

He could only imagine what his father, Lisa, and Sam were going to think when they saw him in this ridiculous outfit.

It was at that moment that Jo entered the room, wearing almost the same outfit and her long blond hair piled on top of her head in thick braids and curls. Thick black mascara adorned her eyelids but otherwise no other makeup. In fact, the leather was wrapped around her curves in just the right way.

"Dean, shove your eyeballs back in," Jo said, cracking him out of his reverie.

"Wha-wha-you look great!" he managed to force out as he snapped his jaw shut.

Jo let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like church bells ringing in the distance. "Thank you very much, Mr. Winchester. I do tell you, it's the most uncomfortable I have ever felt."

"Me too," he smiled.

At that moment, Castiel and Becky entered, both of them carrying thick gold cloaks.

"What, are we going to be Batman?" Dean founded himself asking.

Castiel rolled his eyes. "How do you feel about fire?"

* * *

"I'm gonna burn to death. I'm gonna burn to death. I'm gonna burn to death. I'm gonna burn-"

"Dean, shut up!"

"Aren't you afraid you're going to blow up in flames?" he snapped at her as they slowly ascended their chariot. It was marked with a large number 12 on the front with black and gold.

"Castiel said it was fake flames. All we were going to feel was a tickling sensation," she said.

"Tickling-shmickling. It's still fire and I don't like it," he grumbled.

"You're being a big baby. Knock it off," she snapped back.

"I don't wanna."

Jo rolled her eyes again and gripped the side of the wagon as they began to move.

They were the last ones out. District 1 was far ahead of them but even from their way back, both of them could make out the outlandish pinks and purples that adorned their costumes. Dean had to hide a smile at how ridiculous the black male tribute looked with the colorful jacket and the head piece. The girl seemed right at home.

District 2 was about five feet behind them. They wore heavy knight-like costumes, both of them carrying heavy head pieces as well. Districts 3 and 4 were close behind, their costumes so confusing that Dean felt a little idiotic trying to figure them out.

Right in front of them was District 11. The tall girl...Rachel? Was that her name? She seemed to be supporting the little boy slightly. There was no back to the chariot and the boy was teetering dangerously to the edge.

Their costumes were bright gold. Dean remembered that District 11 was agriculture so he distracted himself trying to figure out how their costumes meant "agriculture".

"Stalks of grain," Jo whispered at his elbow.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Look." She pointed.

Watching carefully, he could see, in fact, stalks of grain winding themselves around the legs and up the torsos of the costumes. The grain stalks were a deep black, kind of making their costume look exactly the same as District 12's, except the colors were flipped.

"Wow."

"Wow is right," chuckled Jo.

Their carriage began to move faster, catching up with the rest ahead of them. Dean glanced up and saw the cameras catching him and Jo laughing together. He then glimpsed Castiel and Becky. Castiel gave him an approving nod.

"Apparently, we are supposed to keep chatting," he murmured lowly in Jo's ear.

"What?"

"Look at everyone else," he waved a hand ahead. The rest of the tributes, except for Eleven to where Rachel was trying frantically to keep the young boy from falling out, none of them were even acknowledging that the other counterpart existed.

"Oooohhhh," Jo let out the breathy word, understanding what they meant. "Hmm."

"Hmm, what?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. Just doing it for the crowd."

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. It was that time when he caught Castiel's eye again. Castiel nodded again and that's when he knew the cloaks were supposed to go aflame.

"It's time."

"It is?" Jo looked up and saw Castiel and Becky nodding at her. "Okay, then. Here we go."

Dean tensed up as Jo hit the small button on her battery pack. She reached over and hit the button on his too when he didn't move a muscle. He expected to feel the heat on his back but instead...whoah, he actually felt a tickling sensation!

"You are such a big baby," she laughed, glancing over her shoulder and admiring Castiel's handiwork.

The flames stretched from the very bottoms of their golden cloaks, going up to the middle. He then understood why Castiel had chosen gold because it made their whole backs look aflamed with light.

"Whoa," Jo mumbled. She reached over and tightly gripped Dean's hand. When Dean looked at her questionably, she didn't release him. "Castiel's telling me to," she said, gesturing with a cock of the head.

Dean looked over in time to see Castiel giving an approving nod again. He let out a sigh and brought his and Jo's hands up as an expression of truth and victory.

"This is so stupid," he muttered.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Will you quit complaining?"

"Well, listen Jo. I am wrapped from head to toe in this shiny jumpsuit, I am on fire, I am a tribute in the freakin' Hunger Games! I have a right to complain!"

"And so do I. Jeez, Dean, do you think I want this? I don't want this either. I never wanted any part of the Hunger Games. But my name came out of the bowl and nobody volunteered for me. So I'm here. And I am going to do my best. You've already proved yourself as a worthy competitor to Bobby. What have I got? I'm the baker's daughter," Jo retorted quickly.

Dean stared at her. At that moment, the chariot gave a sudden jerk. They both lurched forward, realizing that the parade had come to an end. They had been so deep in an argument that they hadn't even noticed what had been going on around them. The crowd around them was roaring so loudly that Dean wondered how he had actually heard Jo and his own voice.

* * *

"That was phenomenal!"

"Phenomenal? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean barked. "We argued through the whole thing. How the hell did that look wonderful?"

"You didn't pay any attention to what you were part of. You took interest in each other. It didn't matter if it was over something stupid. It showed that you really didn't give a damn about the Capitol," explained Bobby as he took another swig out of his flask.

Dean let out a grimace of anger before ripping his now extinguished cloak off of his shoulders. "I'm going to get out of this thing."

He ignored the saddened look on Castiel's face.

* * *

Training was to begin at sunrise.

Sunrise. Pfft.

"Time to get up!"

Meg's voice trilled him out of the first peaceful sleep he had had in weeks. No nightmares, no nothing. He didn't wake up to the sound of Sam screaming his name.

"Argh, already?" he groaned, rolling over and stuffing a pillow over his head.

"Yes! Now, UP!"

* * *

"Morning, Princess."

"Bite me."

"Sure. Get over here."

Jo made a joking stance and he sidestepped her. "It's eight o'clock in the morning and I haven't had my Wheaties yet. Back off."

"Testy."

"You're damn right," he grumbled. "Why do we have to wear these stupid uniforms?"

"Because it's protocal," mumbled Bobby as he joined them at the entrance to the Training Center. "Once you get inside you will see that everyone else is wearing the same thing. And when you head into the arena, you will have to wear the clothes that they give you."

Dean grumbled again. "Damn it."

"Now listen, Princess," said Bobby. Dean's face flushed with anger but he didn't say anything else. "When you get in there, you have to make a choice. Either give it everything you got or do nothing at all. Dean, I know you have definitely got something to offer but I haven't seen much from Jo yet. Just do what you want to do."

"That's all you got?" asked Dean, his eyes widening in surprise.

"What else do you want from me?" snapped the elder man.

Dean let out a huff of anger and stomped through the wide doors. Jo stood back for a second, watching him go. She rolled her eyes and then followed.

* * *

Arrow after arrow flew into the dummies. He filled one dummy with so many arrows that it was littered from head to toe. He made sure to hit every single pulse point from brain to femoral artery. His anger and his outrage was fueling him to the brink that he felt like he could take on anything.

He didn't want to go to too much of an extreme. He remembered a tribute a couple of years ago that had done amazingly well in the training, earning a perfect score in his private session and seeming unbeatable. But when he got into the arena, he had died in the first hour, having exhausted himself out and allowing himself to get killed by a Career.

Careers.

They were the ones to beat mostly. In the past 15 years, nearly every single victor of The Hunger Games had been a Career which meant they were from Districts 1, 2, or 4. They were from the strongest of the twelve districts and had had the proper training their whole lives. When Bobby had won, he had fought a girl from District 1 and that was the reason why his win had been so shocking. But of course, it had been a very near end for Bobby, almost dying after winning in some extreme way.

The soon to be Career pack were already rounding around each other. He glimpsed the one that was sure to be the leader, a tall blond boy from District 2. Tyson Brady was his name. His counterpart, the tiny little brunette was at his elbow...Ruby? Was that her name?

The gorgeous brunette and the slightly younger black kid were hanging around them as well, along with the girl from District 4. He still hadn't caught their names yet and he didn't really want too. Even if they were supposed to be the most vicious out of all the tributes there, he didn't want to know their names. He would still have to kill them.

Jo had busied herself at the knot tying station. She had whizzed through a series of very difficult looking knots and ties and Dean wondered inwardly how the hell she didn't tie herself up by accident.

"Got it all out of your system now?" asked the young blonde as he approached her from behind.

"Was I really that bad?" he asked.

Jo shrugged her shoulders. "You're a very strange young man, Dean," she said as she moved down the line of stations. "You've got a lot of strength and a lot of courage. A hell of a lot more than I could ever have. I kind of have a feeling you are going to get an invitation to join the Careers quite soon."

"Hell, that'll never happen," he murmured as he replaced the bow on the stand.

"It might get you by," she said quietly.

"No."

Jo watched his face and was strongly reminded of the protective older brother of that little boy that she had known for so long. She hadn't known Dean very well personally but she would see the Winchester brothers all the time in the town. Dean was always walking a few steps ahead of Sam, keeping an arm back. He wasn't just leading Sam to their destination, he was protecting him from the possible things that could get him.

Now that Dean didn't have Sam around him, with him to protect, he was too alone. It broke Jo's heart.

"Hey, look," the young Harvelle whispered. Dean followed her line of vision to see the young boy from District 11 peeking around a corner, watching them. When he realized that they had seen him, he quickly ducked away. "You have a shadow."

Dean looked at her questionably. "What is his name, do you know?"

Jo shook her head, her blond ponytail bouncing. "Nope. All I know is that the girl's name is Rachel."

"Yeah, I know that too."

* * *

Jo seemed a little timid to really take control of what she could do. Dean knew she could do so much. It actually made him wonder if she was trying to look like a weakling and make the Careers think that they had no competition in the end.

He found himself watching the girl from District 2. She was tiny and petite but oh, what a fighter. The knives flew as fast as his arrows did, filling the dummies with even more holes.

"Oh, boy," he muttered to himself.

Right in the middle of building a fire, Dean heard a yell from the other side of the room. He watched Jo jump out of the way in time as the big guy from District 1 grab a boy from District 7.

"Where the hell is my other knife?" he snarled, grabbing the boy by the throat.

"I didn't take your damn knife, Brady!" the boy cried out. He threw Brady's hands away from his neck and stepped away.

Brady obviously didn't believe him. He lunged forward again and raised a hand. "Once we are in the arena, you're first on my list!"

Dean let out a huff of breath and rolled his eyes. And of course in his line of vision, he caught sight of the boy from District 11 hiding up on a walkway, holding Brady's knife in his hand. A mischievous grin was crossing his face that held so much more knowledge of survival then he had originally let on.

A tiny smile pulled the corner of his mouth up.

"Interesting kid," he found himself mumbling.

"What?" Jo asked.

"Nothing."

* * *

"Private training sessions."

"Private training sessions?"

"What are you, a parrot?"

Dean grumbled angrily to himself. "I think I've proved myself enough in that damn training center. Why do I have to go in front of the Gamemakers and do it again?"

"Because you have to earn a score, Dean," Meg tried to explain peacefully. "And the way you have been in the center, it will probably be quite high. Maybe even an eight."

"Whoopee!" Dean trilled, slapping his hands together sarcastically. "Sorry, I can't make it."

"Tough. You're making it or you're in big trouble with the head honchos," snarled Bobby. He took another heavy swig from his flask.

Dean looked at Jo for support but she shook her head. "Sorry, Dean. I'm not backing you up on this."

"How can you?" he replied cruelly. "All you've done is tie knots through that whole damn time."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Must be embarrassing after all that bragging you have done about me. And be still my heart, all you had to do was throw a knife at Bobby's head and you're everyone's favorite," she snapped. With that, she swept out of the large living room and disappeared down the hallway to her bedroom.

Dean glared furiously after her. He could feel Bobby Singer's eyes on the back of his head and desperately wished he would look away.

"What?" he finally growled, turning to stare at the old man.

Bobby shrugged his thick shoulders. "A little tension between you and Jo?"

"That is the understatement of the year," said Dean as he ripped off his boots. He glimpsed Bobby's grimace of irritation. "Bobby, what is it?"

"You should be careful with Jo," said Bobby. "You might need her later."

"I want her to stay away from me," Dean finally admitted. "I am going to have to kill her in the end. Or she is going to have to kill me."

* * *

Idiot.

Idiot.

_Idiot. _

_IDIOT!_

That's what he was.

A total idiot.

Your brother would be here if it wasn't you.

Your brother would be here if it wasn't you.

He told himself that over and over again. It was the only way to hold onto whatever sanity he had left. He had only been at the Capitol for five measly little days and he was already climbing the walls. All he wanted was to leave. He wanted to run. He should have offered to run away with Lisa. Just to take Sam and his father and her family and just run so far and wide and never look back.

He missed his family and Lisa more than anything in the world. He hoped with whatever he had left that Lisa had managed to rouse John from his stupor and he was doing whatever he could to help Sam and support him through this. But the thing he hoped for the most was that Sam wasn't watching any of this on the television. Especially when the actual Games began.

* * *

Finally, it was District 12's turn.

"Good luck, Dean," Jo whispered at his ear. He glanced down at the smaller girl and nodded with an appreciative smile.

"Thanks."

Disappearing through the large doors, Dean was greeted with the sight of the Gamemakers at the other end of the room. He could see the head Gamemaker, Gabriel, in the center of it all, holding a large pastry in his hands and trilling about something that Dean didn't give two hoots about.

None of the Gamemakers were paying any attention to the new occupant in the room. Dean could guess that they were getting very bored after seeing all the stuff that the other Districts had to offer. He knew he would have to bring it to get their attention.

He cleared his throat loudly. "Dean Winchester. District 12," he almost had to holler.

The Gamemakers all finally realized that he was there. Gabriel lifted a hand and beckoned for him to continue.

Dean spied exactly what he needed. A long silky bow and six arrows that were just waiting for him to touch them. Sighing, he reached out and carefully lifted the bow off of it's stand, flexings his fingers over the pristine wood. It wasn't like the bows he had worked with in the Training Center, it was more like his bow at home. The bow that he would hunt with and feed his family with.

Nerves started to rattle him as he lifted the bow up and placed an arrow in it's catch. His elbow shook slightly and the arrow landed way off of it's mark.

"Damn it," he murmured.

He could hear the Gamemakers give disapproving grunts and mocking chuckles of laughter and that's when his blood began to boil.

"All right. If that's the way you want it," he mumbled to himself. He fetched his arrow and reloaded it into the catch. He picked up another arrow and loaded it on top of that one.

And then he picked up a third arrow and loaded it.

He turned and faced the Gamemakers. Their backs were to him, deeply engrossed in conversations about the pot roast and the delicious punch.

He drew the heavy string back, aiming at nothing except the wall right behind Gabriel's head. Then he let the arrows go.

One landed right above Gabriel's head, catching a chunk of his hair in the process. It drove deep into the wall and created three large cracks around the hole.

One skimmed off the top of the pot roast, somehow turned in midair, and landed with a resounded shattering crack through the glass punchboawl, breaking it into a million pieces.

The last one had planted itself right in the center of the fruit bowl. When the arrow was pulled out, it had an apple, a banana, and a pear speared, looking like quite the fruit kabob.

Dean could feel some warmth soaking his hand and realized that he had broken the string of the bow with the force he had pulled it with. The string had sprang back and tore a hunk of skin off of his hand and blood was now slowly trickling down from a deep cut.

The Gamemakers stared at him, all frozen with shock. Dean did a faux courteous bow.

"Thank you for your consideration. Could you please up it a bit for my counterpart? At least show her a little bit more respect that you have shown me."

With that, he dropped the now useless bow on the floor and stomped out of the large room, making much noise and being as rude as he possibly could.

* * *

**Heehee, oh Dean! Sure sounds like something that Dean would do, doesn't it? **

**I am trying so hard not to copy Hunger Games word for word. I had a young lady ask me not to do that because she liked the story and didn't want to get bored with it. I don't blame her. Who wants that? So I am just trying to think of what Dean and Jo would do while they were in this situation. I do think that they would argue and fight but in the end, they would have each other's backs. **

**I am trying to keep with Dean and Jo's personalities. I am trying not to step out and make either of them OOC. It would lose the whole point of the story. **

**I did keep the chariot parade costumes close to the same because whenever I picture Dean in that leather costume I start to drool. *smiles slyly*. **

**Next chapter will be the scores and the interviews with Balthazar. Chapter after that they will be going into the arena for the first time. There will be a few more similarities from the books, ones that are very important. But I will assure you that in no way will I be copying the whole damn book. **

**Anyway, I will shut up now. Thank you so much for making it through another one of my dumb babbling after shots. If you have made it through, you might as well click on that little button below and review! Even if it is to tell me how much you hate this story. :P **


	4. Interview

_**Interview**_

* * *

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm sorry! I was mad!"

"I think it's hilarious!"

"Oh, Bobby!"

"It's very 'Dean' of you," whispered the blonde next to him on the sofa.

Dean couldn't help but smile. "What did you do?" he asked her.

Jo snuggled down on the cushions. "Secret," she smiled coyly.

Dean let out a chuckle. "All righty then."

"When do the scores come on?" asked Jo as she looked at the adults in the room.

"Should be any minute now," Castiel answered. He and Becky had turned up about an hour ago, Meg having invited them to dinner.

The television blinked in front of the two teenagers and Balthazar Whippett's face appeared on the screen.

"Hello, hello, hello all!" the chirpy redhaired man announced. Balthazar Whippett had been the interviewer for the Hunger Games Tributes for the past 24 years, his first year having been when Bobby had competed in the Second Quarter Quell at the age of 16. "Welcome to the review board for the 74th Annual Hunger Games! For the next half hour, we will be discussing the amazing and not so amazing performances that our lovely tributes have put on for the Gamemakers. Some have stunned our judges and some haven't. But I can guarentee you that it is going to be an interesting show."

Dean rolled his eyes again.

"You know, if you keep rolling your eyes, they will get stuck that way," Jo whispered in his ear.

Dean began to roll his eyes for the second time and quickly stopped himself. "Shut up," he hissed. Jo just smiled.

"Now, why don't we begin?" Balthazar chirped happily.

As usual, the Careers scored the highest. Casey and Gordon scored two 9's apiece. Brady and Ruby each scored a 10. The girl from District 4 pulled a 9. It went down through the list, showing the difference in numbers. The young boy from 4 scored a 6. The girl, Rachel, from District 11 scored a 10. That was pretty surprising because District 11 never usually did very well in the scorings at the private sessions.

The little boy from Eleven, Rachel's counterpart, scored an 8 surprisingly. It was then when Dean finally learned his name. Ben Lilden.

Ben...he was only twelve years old.

It made Dean shiver thinking about if Sam had gone, there would have been two twelve year olds.

"You okay?" Jo whispered, noticing his ashen face.

He nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Jo didn't believe him for a second.

"And finally, we have reached District Twelve! District Twelve has proved themselves to be one of the best teams since the Second Quarter Quell when their very own Bobby Singer had won. We have the lovely Joanna Harvelle and the strapping Dean Winchester as tributes this year," announced Balthazar.

"Oooh, here we go!" chortled Meg excitedly. She cast a glare in Dean's direction. "At least I know Joanna will bring something good for us this year. Last year's tributes earned a 2 apiece."

Dean suddenly had the strong urge to throw something at her.

"And first up, we have Joanna Harvelle..." Balthazar began. Jo's headshot appeared on the screen, looking quite serene. It had been the first time either of them had seen themselves on television since the night of the tribute parade. "And Joanna has earned...a nine!"

Jo's jaw fell to the floor. "A nine?" she choked out.

Dean couldn't help but beam for her. "Congratulations!"

"I can't believe I got a nine..." her voice trailed off.

Meg clapped her hands together. "Wonderful!"

"And...now we have Dean Winchester. A seventeen year old boy who has already made a name for himself. He is hereby the 'Boy on Fire' in the eyes of the fans."

"Oh, who cares? Give us the score!" Bobby barked at the television.

"And Dean Winchester as earned an..." Balthazar glanced at his papers and then looked back to the camera, then quickly looked back down, rechecking the facts. "...eleven."

It was like the whole room had turned into a bunch of statues for a minute. Then Jo made the first noise.

"Oh...my...god..."

"An eleven?" Bobby yelped.

Meg continued to pat Dean on the shoulders, squealing happily. "Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"

An eleven...an _eleven..._

It couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake. There was no way he could have scored an eleven. Especially after nearly taking Gabriel's scalp off with his arrow. He had expected a zero or a one or a two but an eleven?

"Snap out of it, Dean. It's wonderful," said Jo.

"He's also going to earn some invitations from the Careers. Tiger, you're going to have some decisions to make," said Bobby. He took a swig from his flask.

"I'll never join the Careers," Dean spat angrily. "What kind of a person do you take me for?"

"Hell, I was offered that too in my Games," said Bobby.

"Did you take it?" asked Jo.

Bobby shook his head. "Nope."

That officially ended the conversation.

* * *

He stared at himself in the mirror.

Castiel had dressed him in a suit of jet black. He was black from head to toe, just like with the chariot costume. But at least he was a little bit more comfortable.

"Here are your shoes," said a voice from behind him. Dean glanced back to see Castiel holding a pair of leather boots with a small piece of metal sticking out from the heel.

"What's that?" he asked, gesturing to the metal piece.

"A little surprise," smirked Castiel, winking at him.

* * *

About forty five minutes had passed since the beginning of the interviews. Balthazar had been taking his time with all of the tributes, spending the most time with Districts 1, 2, and a girl from 5. Dean stood in the back, watching the girl from District 5. She had dark red hair and big wide golden brown eyes. She resembled a fox so much but he could tell that she had that certain fire.

After Foxfire was done with her interview, Balthazar continued on with his interviews. He reached District 11 and Ben came out first, dressed in a smooth white suit that made him look much older than he was. When Balthazar asked him questions, he answered with short replies, telling the interview master and also the audience that he was just in this to stay alive, not to kill anyone. Dean couldn't help but wince when he heard that small boy talking.

Rachel came next. Dean was amazed at how simply stoic that girl was. Strong and silent. But he knew that this girl was going to be one to beat in the Games. Balthazar spent five minutes trying to coax anything out of her, asking about her score in her private training session and what she had done. She remained tight lipped and answered his other questions with just a few words.

Finally, it was his turn.

"Wait until my signal before you do that," said Castiel as he gestured towards Dean's shoes.

Dean nodded. "Okay," he murmured.

"Knock 'em dead, Dean," whispered Jo before he disappeared through the curtain.

* * *

"And here we have someone who has definitely clarified himself as a worthy competitor…Dean Winchester!"

Dean slowly walked out onto the stage. He could see Castiel taking his place in the center of the audience, in perfect viewing so he could catch the signal.

"Well, hello there Dean!" Balthazar greeted cheerfully. His blond spiky hair stuck out all over head giving in the slight appearance of a cowbell. "How are you this evening?"

"Huh?" In truth, Dean hadn't heard a word that the man had said. The audience chuckled lightly.

"I think someone is a little nervous," smiled Balthazar. "How are you?"

"Oh! I'm all right," he mumbled. His stomach was jumping around so much he felt the strong urge to vomit.

"So tell me, what did you say to your little brother when you said goodbye to him after volunteering to take his place?" asked Balthazar.

Sam.

The mention of the reason why he was here quickly snapped him back to reality.

Turning his dark green eyes back to the brown ones of the interviewer, he stared deep, trying to make him understand.

"I told him that I would win."

* * *

The questions dwindled by. Balthazar asked him about the eleven he had earned and Dean clammed up, knowing what kind of havoc the Gamemakers would wreak on him in the arena if he blabbed. He could feel Castiel's eyes on him from the audience, knowing that the time would be coming up soon.

"So, one last question. Tell us about that amazing costume that you and your fellow tribute Joanna Harvelle wore at the tribute parade. That fire…was it real?"

Dean shook his head. He saw Castiel's slight nod and knew it was time. "No, it wasn't. But it sure looked real. I was so scared that I was going to burn to death until it actually lit up. I'm actually wearing the flames now. Would you like to see?"

The audience started to titter in excitement. Balthazar sat back. "Is it safe?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "I assure you, it's perfectly safe."

"Well go ahead, Fire Boy."

Funny how he nicknamed the girl from District 5 'Foxfire' and he was the one being called 'Fire Boy'.

Pulling himself off of the sofa, he took his place in the center of the stage. He pushed his right toe down into the hardwood and a blast of flames erupted from his heels, stretching up to his thighs and encasing him in the pleasant warmth. He moved off to the side in a slightly graceful movement, allowing the several different colors ripple around him.

The audience was going crazy. They were so loud that Dean could barely hear Balthazar hollering into his microphone.

"Dean Winchester, the Boy on Fire!"

* * *

"So, Joanna-"

"Call me Jo. I hate Joanna."

"Okay, Jo. Can you tell us anything about the beautiful nine that you earned in your private sessions?"

"All I can say is that I walked in there expecting to do something and I wound up doing something totally different," said the petite blonde.

Jo looked beautiful, dressed in a dark brown wrap around dress that brought out just how perfect her eyes were. She wore a bright gold chain around her throat that ended with a large gold pendant that was the shape of a mockingjay. Her dark blond tresses were piled on top of her head in soft curls.

Dean then gave himself a mental slap for checking out his soon to be enemy.

"Now, Jo, let me ask you. Is there anyone special at home?" said Balthazar.

Jo glanced down at her hand that was resting against her thigh. "There is someone that I've liked ever since I was little."

"Who's that?"

"Well…I don't even think he knew I was alive until I was chosen as tribute," she said quietly.

"Well, Jo…" Balthazar leaned closer to her. "Let me tell you this. You go out there and you win this thing, and he'll just have to notice you even more."

"I don't think that's possible, Balthazar," said Jo, finally bringing her eyes up to meet his.

"And why not?"

"Because the boy in the rain came here with me."

* * *

**Hoo-ha! Finally! **

**Yes, it's still similar to Hunger Games. But I always had this intended, especially that Dean was taking the place of Katniss and Jo was taking the place of Peeta. **

**I do hope that you enjoyed. Reviews are immensely loved. I am in dire need of feedback for this story. Even if you hate it, go ahead and review! I am so desperate. :D**

**Next chapter will be the aftermath of the interview and then Dean and Jo being released into the arena. **


	5. Beginning

_**Beginning**_

* * *

The boy in the rain.

What the hell...?

_She's talking about me. _

Balthazar was holding Jo's arm up in a victory pose like he did with every tribute. But the audience...he had never heard such a horrendous applause before. He realized then exactly what was going to come of this.

* * *

She walked easily in the high heels that Becky had put her in, holding the dress above her feet as she sashayed across the floor. But seconds later, she was almost knocked off her feet as arms reached around and grabbed her across her chest. She felt her back being pinned against the wall and a hand encasing her throat.

"What the hell was that?" Dean bellowed her in her face. "You are supposed to be my enemy and now you say you have a crush on me? On live television?"

"Get the hell off me!" Jo snarled.

Dean was quickly thrown off of her, his own arms being twisted from her neck and behind his back. He felt the crunch of his bones and winced.

"All right, all right! I'm sorry!" Jo effectively had him in a half-nelson. She released him from the hold and he rubbed his wrists.

"It actually plays in your favor, tiger," came that voice of his mentor.

"How does it play in our favor?" asked Dean. He glared at Jo. "And why the hell did you do that on live television?"

Jo didn't say anything but Bobby did. "Long lost lovers. The whole kit and caboodle. Girl loves guy. Guy doesn't know. Guy finds out in unusual way. Guy falls in love with girl. They live happily ever after."

"You really are a psychopath, you know that?" Dean snapped. "I'm going back to the penthouse. Goodnight."

With a very childish stomp of the foot, he pushed past the group of people that had gathered. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him and it made the back of his neck burn with embarrassment.

Damn it.

Just...damn it.

Why the hell did Jo have to do that?

How could she do that?

And why the hell hadn't she told him before? Before they were in the Games together and now one was going to have to kill the other.

* * *

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight.

The Hunger Games began at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.

The next morning, he was probably going to die.

Rising out of bed, he pulled on a sweatshirt and padded out of the room. He glanced down the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before he made for the large bay window and balcony in the front of the penthouse. He needed some air.

* * *

Well, he wasn't alone.

Jo was curled up in one of the lawn chairs, her dark blond hair strewn across the pillow like a sheet. She was awake but off in another world.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered as he lowered himself down onto a chair facing hers.

Not even jumping, she shook her head. "Who could?"

"Bobby is sleeping like a baby. Well, of course the flask of white liquor helped. And Meg took about twelve sleeping pills," said Dean. He looked up at the peaceful night sky, listening to the sounds of the parties down below in the streets.

"Funny how they are happy that people are going to die tomorrow," whispered Jo.

Dean sighed. "That's the Capitol for you."

"President Azazel sure wiped their minds of senses."

Dean let out another sigh. A blast of fireworks flew into the sky and scattered into a million different brilliant colors. Blues, pinks, yellows, and oranges, all so amazing and beautiful.

Celebrating their upcoming deaths.

"We are going to make it through this, Jo," muttered Dean. "You are going to come out of this okay."

"And how is that?"

"Because they don't have us. All of them-the Gamemakers, the Capitol, they don't own us. Look, if the bastards had had their way, Sam would be here and I would be back in District 12. Lisa probably would have gotten chosen too, not you. How many times was your name in that pot?" he asked her.

"Four," Jo whispered. "Being the baker's daughter hasn't really hyped a need for tesserae."

Dean couldn't help but grimace. "Four times. Your name was only in there four times and you are here. My name was in there twenty times. But I was never going to be chosen and I knew that. I even knew that Sam was probably going to be chosen because that is the hand that fate deals us. I spent all of my time telling Sam and Lisa and my father that everything was going to be okay and deep down I knew it wasn't."

"And yet, you waste no time telling me how it's going to be okay," Jo snapped.

"I don't want to die. Do you?"

"Hell no. I don't want to die. None of those kids want to die. Brady and Ruby seem to think that they are going to win this thing, they are so bloody confident."

"And so what? It doesn't matter how they think or we think. All that matters is that this is our last night of actual freedom, correct?"

Jo stared at him. "Yes."

"And what is the thing that you want to do? The thing that you want to do right now?" Even as the words were coming out of Dean's mouth, he couldn't get control over them. But it didn't matter.

Jo's eyes widened slightly as her ears picked up the acoustic music from the streets below.

"I want to dance."

* * *

He hadn't laughed in so long.

He was winded and exhausted but actually a little bit happy.

Ever since his mother had died, there had been an ache in his heart. An ache that not even Sam or Lisa could lift. But for some reason, this girl that was going to be his enemy in less than four hours had released a little bit of that ache.

"Thank you for that," Jo smiled, pushing her dark curls out of her eyes. "I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry for grabbing you," he murmured, looking at the marks on her shoulders that he had inflicted.

"And I'm sorry for declaring my love for you on live television," Jo chuckled.

"You're forgiven. Why did you do that, by the way?" It fell out of his mouth so fast that he didn't even have time to try and stop it. Stupidly, he tried to wave his words away. "Sorry, uh-"

Jo held two fingers to his lips to silence him. "You'll just have to figure it out, Dean," she murmured.

With that, she swept by him, heading back to the door that led back into the apartment. Bobby and Meg would be rising soon and they needed to get back to their rooms before they got caught.

"Jo-"

Jo shook her head and disappeared through the door, leaving him alone on the balcony with nothing but his confused thoughts for company.

* * *

Dressing slowly in the parts of uniform that had been sent to him, Dean could feel his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he was sure the other tributes could hear it several floors below.

"Are you ready yet?"

"Almost," Dean grunted at his mentor. He pulled on the boots that had been sent up and laced them tightly around his ankles. He didn't need to be losing a shoe at the Cornucopia.

After making sure his thick leather belt was intact, Dean let his mentor lead him down the tunnels where the tributes were going to be released into the arena. He would meet up with Castiel and receive the rest of his uniform, getting last shreds of advice and counsel before the big send off.

"Now, I want you to listen to me," said Bobby as the two men walked. "Once you are released, you will see the Cornucopia. Everything that you could ever need will be there. Food, weapons, supplies, even a bow. Don't go for it, all right?"

"Why?" asked Dean.

"Because they are setting you up for a bloodbath. That's why it's always called 'the bloodbath'. Just get the hell out of there. Don't try to get anything until later."

"What do you want me to do when I leave there?"

"Get to higher ground and find water. When you find water, you will be able to figure it out from there," said Bobby.

Dean felt slightly irritated. "That's it?"

"Tiger, you will be able to make it through this," said Bobby. Dean's dark green eyes searched his face and realized that his mentor was actually stone cold sober. He didn't even have his flask on him. He was all there and extremely serious.

"All right."

For once, Dean believed him.

There were no last words or hugs between the two of them before Dean was escorted away by the Capitol members. Just one last long look.

* * *

As he walked between the two white clad Capitol members, he wondered where Jo was. He wondered how she was feeling. Who was with her.

She was probably terrified.

He was.

She was probably nauseous.

He was.

She was probably shaking.

Glancing at his hands, he realized something.

Huh. He was too.

"I'll take it from here, boys. Thank you."

Castiel's voice was like music to his ears. He could feel gentle hands on his arms and they led him away into a small room.

The room was shadowy, only a few lights above, hanging from the ceiling. His shakiness from the hovercraft ride was still evident as he staggered into the room with Castiel's hand on his arm, gently guiding him.

"How are you feeling?" Castiel asked, his voice calm.

Dean managed to wrench his eyes away from the floor to look at his stylist. His friend.

"I'm so scared..." he breathed, feeling the tears starting to prick his eyes.

"Understandable," whispered Castiel as he placed his hands on Dean's shoulders. "But you remember what I told you? What Bobby taught you?"

Dean nodded. "Yes."

"Do what your instincts tell you to do. Do what you believe is right. Just don't do it until you have had a minute to think about it. Make sure you know it's the right thing."

Dean nodded again. "All right."

Castiel approached the small table that stood in the center of the room. As Dean watched him pick up the jacket he was going to wear in the arena, he spotted the tube that was going to lift him to the killing fields in a matter of minutes. Nausea raced through him again and he felt his knees tremble. Castiel was at his side in seconds and helped steady him.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Dean murmured. Physically, he was all right.

"I have something for you," said Castiel as he helped him into his jacket. From his pocket, he withdrew a long black cord. At the end hung Dean's amulet.

Dean was sure he was going to cry as he stared at the last gift that his little brother had bestowed on him moments before he was taken away.

Castiel slipped the cord over Dean's head. He placed the amulet over Dean's heart and then zipped his coat up over it.

"I think that is something that may help you remember who you are," he said.

Furiously blinking away tears, Dean nodded for the final time. "Thank you."

Castiel stepped a little closer to the trembling boy. His hands were soothing upon his shoulders and Dean felt himself come to a standstill.

"You'll be okay."

* * *

Suddenly, he was in the solid glass tube. The wall closed over him and he turned, trying to keep Castiel in his line of vision. His stylist...no, his friend gave him a reassuring smile and a wink. Dean's hands pressed against the glass, not taking his eyes off of his friend until the tube started to rise up.

Then, he was in the arena.

All twenty four of them were standing on metal plates, arranged in a half circle. In front of them was the Cornucopia, about forty yards away. The woods were another sixty yards away and would require some running to get there in time and safely.

Stuff was pouring out of the mouth of the black horn. Backpacks, weapons, canisters and bottles of water, everything that a tribute could need to survive in these Games.

He remembered Bobby's words.

_Get to higher ground. Look for water. _

Suddenly, a voice rang out, clear and strong. The voice of Gabriel, the Head Gamemaker and Official Announcer of the Hunger Games.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Let the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games begin!"

Time to die.

* * *

**I tried to keep Dean and Castiel's goodbye as different from Katniss's and Cinna's goodbye as I could. These two have such a different bond from Katniss and Cinna but I would think that Dean would want the last person he saw to be Castiel before he went into the Games. So that's why I added in him staring at him before the tube went up into the arena. Also, I know that Bobby would definitely have told Dean to leave the Cornucopia and get to higher ground, that's why I kept that the same. **

**Well, I hope you liked. Next chapter, the official Hunger Games will begin. Sorry this one was so short. Just had to show the aftermath of the interviews and Dean's thoughts on Jo. I have had some requests that Jo's sassy side should come out more and I promise, she will get sassy. That's why we all loved her. =)**

**Anyway, like I said, I hope you liked the chapter. Oooh, quick question. Anyone else think that Jensen Ackles could definitely bring it as Finnick Odair in Catching Fire? He even looks the part, come on! Blond, green eyes, amazing body, etc. etc. I could go on and on! **

**Reviews are loved! I really need the feedback! **


	6. Bloodbath

_**Bloodbath**_

* * *

The clock began to toll.

Dean took that time to look around at his fellow tributes. He could see Jo about four tributes to his right. She was wearing the same jacket and her hair was in a tight braid down her back. She was doing the same thing that he was doing, checking out her fellow tributes. Their eyes met for a split second before Dean looked away.

And then he saw the bow.

It was laying against a box that was probably filled with food. The quiver full of arrows lay next to it, glinting in the sunlight.

His bow.

He suddenly felt a pair of eyes on him, very intent and very strong. Glancing to his right, he found Jo watching him. He raised his eyebrows and she shook her head slightly.

Eight, seven, six, five, four-

He was going to miss his chance.

Three

Two

_ONE_

The gong sounded.

He wasn't aware of what was going on for a split second. The tributes had shot off of their posts and were pouring into the Cornucopia, grabbing weapons and backpacks.

The blood started to pour.

Dean stared at the bloodbath for a second. But then he heard Bobby's voice in his head.

_Get moving! _

He ran for the nearest backpack. It was laying off to the side, small and bright yellow. He managed to snatch it and then saw Jo dart in front of him, nothing in her hands. She ran as fast as she could for the mouth of woods and disappeared through.

Standing there staring at Jo was a big mistake.

A knife whizzed by his ear. Whirling around, he saw Ruby from District 2 with an armful of knives. He managed to duck the next one, throwing his backpack up. The knife buried itself deep into the canvas covering. He yanked it out and began to run the same way Jo was heading.

He threw himself through the mouth of the woods and fell into total blackness.

* * *

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

He should have listened to his mentor.

Should have listened.

But of course, he was Dean Winchester. He was too damn stubborn to listen to anyone. He was bullheaded and too full of piss and vinegar to admit he was wrong. Even when it was staring him right in the face.

As he walked, he remembered Bobby's other words, getting to high land and finding water. That was the highest instinct of survival of the moment.

An hour passed by. And then another.

He was about four hours in when he realized he was walking in circles. The trees that he were passing were getting more and more familiar every time he passed one. What the-?

Maybe he was already starting to crack up.

This was crazy.

So crazy.

Suddenly, he heard a cracking sound behind him. Whirling around, he saw bright red hair flash. Focusing his tired eyes, he saw the girl from District 5, Foxfire, throw herself through a set of bushes and land on her feet in front of him.

The two stared at each other for a moment. Terror was gripping Foxfire's chest and she was panting. It took Dean a second to realize that he was panting too.

Foxfire shrank back. She looked like she was thinking about springing or fleeing.

Dean took a step back. He was thinking the same thing. He hadn't had a chance to look in his back to see if there were any useful weapons. he had the small knife but this girl was small and much quicker than he was and would probably snatch it and bury it into his chest. It was almost too much to handle at that moment.

Then Foxfire made her choice.

She fled.

And Dean let her. He wasn't ready to kill anyone just yet.

* * *

Finally finding a place to stop and rest, Dean opened up his backpack. The bright yellow was driving him nuts and when he finally found some mud, he was going to have to camouflage it.

Inside the pack he found a bag of dried fruit, six slices of dried rabbit, a thin sleeping bag, and something small and dangerously sharp. Peering close, Dean realized it was an arrow head sharpener.

An arrow head sharpener.

Jesus, was this ever going to end?

Okay, okay. Get your head together, Dean. Find water. Just find water.

That was when the first cannon blasted.

Dean almost fell off his log in fright and looked around wildly. Another cannon blast followed it. He began to count them.

"Six...seven...eight...nine."

"That, ladies and gentlemen, are our sounds to honor the fallen tributes," came the voice of Gabriel, the Head Gamemaker and Announcer. "Nine have perished in the Cornucopia. Let them carry on in peace in their new lives."

New lives. Pftt, what a crock.

Nine kids. Nine kids were dead.

He wondered if Jo was among them. It would make it easier for him to carry on because he wouldn't have to kill her in the end.

Night was falling quickly. He needed to find some shelter and he wasn't stupid enough to try to start a fire right in the smack middle of the woods. He may be large but he was still wiry and could climb trees. That was something that Lisa had taught him.

Lisa. He missed her so much right now.

He wondered if she was watching. He hoped that she was keeping Sam away from the television. Sam hated any kind of bloodshed. Hell, he refused to look at any of the game that he brought home until their father had cleaned it and cooked it. Especially if it was larger game or even a freaking rabbit! He loved those old Disney classics and Bambi had been his favorite. He just couldn't look at dead Thumper while Dean and John were getting him ready for a meal.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle dryly at that thought. He knew right then if Sam had gone in, he definitely would have died at the Cornucopia. No amount of mentoring from Bobby or whatnot could have prepared his young brother for this kind of battle.

* * *

Roping his legs tightly to the large branch, he settled down for the night.

That was when the images began to flash across the night sky.

He watched as images of the dead tributes were burned forever in his memory.

Both tributes from District 3, the young boy from District 4 (that made his heart break a little), the boy from District 5 (Foxfire's counterpart was dead. She was on her own.), the girl from District 6, the boy from District 8, both from District 9, and the girl from District 10.

That meant Jo was still alive.

He wasn't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or frustration.

Both from District 11 were alive too. That little Ben must have done what Jo had done and ran and hid. Dean had noticed how fast and monkey-like that little munchkin had been in training so he wasn't surprised that he was all right. Also, his female counterpart, Rachel was running. She had probably taken part in the bloodbath, gotten what she needed and hid.

The Career pack was going strong. Casey, Gordon, Brady, Ruby, and the girl from District 4 must be moving together already. It was perfectly plausible, happened in every Games. But for an outsider, it made it harder to win. He inwardly wondered how the hell Bobby had won his Games. Especially looking at the state his mentor was in now.

* * *

He was in the midst of a doze when the sounds of crackling came to his ears. Sitting straight up, Dean looked around in the darkness to see a bright orange light bouncing away in a small clearing.

A fire.

How stupid was this person? Blatantly giving away their position and his!

"Look!"

The voice made him jump and almost drop the pack in his arms. Looking down, he saw the Careers milling right underneath his tree. Brady was obviously the leader, standing tallest among the...wait six of them? He wondered if Rachel had decided to join.

"What is it, Brady?" asked Casey. Her black hair was fixed a plait wrapped around her head.

"What do we have here? Do you think it's the 'fire boy'?" His hands came up in the quotes and his voice dropped to a whiny whisper.

"No, he's not that dumb," came another voice.

Jo.

"You better be right, lover girl or your little boyfriend's gone," said Brady.

He pulled out a long saber and lead the pack towards the lighted clearing. Jo followed from behind and glanced up around her. Dean shrank against his branch, willing himself to not even breathe. For a split second, he was sure she had caught sight of his boot disappearing over the top of the ledge like branch.

Seconds passed and he heard a horrified scream followed by a sickening crunching sound. The cannon fired a shot while after that. The picture of the District 8 girl shone in the night sky.

"Well, that was fun!" cheered Casey. "Did you see her?"

"Yeah, I saw her," said Brady. They were stumbling back into view and Brady was wiping blood off of his jacket front. "So that's ten down."

That was when little Ruby saw him.

She pulled on Brady's arm and pointed. "Hey, look Brady. We have company."

Crap.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" chuckled Brady, walking forward. His face shone with glee.

"What does it look like?" Dean snarled. "Or are you too stupid to make it out?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jo wince.

"Let's just kill him and get it over with. We need him out of the way," said Casey.

"You're right, Case," said Brady. "But first, let's get him down. I want to watch him the lights leave his eyes."

"How about this?" said Casey. She held up something that made Dean's jaw drop.

His bow.

"Would make it only fitting. Especially after seeing him show off in training."

Dean let out an irritated guffaw. "Oh, please! You couldn't hit the side of a barn with those arrows!"

Casey's face flushed with crimson blood and she notched an arrow. She let it fly and soon discovered how right Dean was. It landed about thirty feet off mark into the bushes. Dean let out a laugh of sarcastic glee.

"Told ya so!" As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt quite stupid.

Casey growled in anger and began to notch another arrow. Dean's heart jumped into his mouth. She was going to waste all the other arrows.

"Casey, wait!" Gordon quickly spoke up. "Hold on. Let me try to get him down."

Gordon was the small of the two men. Brady towered above with his six foot frame. Apparently, both of them were smart enough to know that Gordon had a better chance of knocking Dean out of that tree than Brady.

Feeling fear start to grip his throat, Dean quickly unbelted himself from the tree and started to shimmy up the trunk. He was now sixty feet up and the branches were started to give way under his weight.

To his dire satisfaction, they were giving way under Gordon's weight too. And he was thirty feet underneath him.

"Damn it!" the District 1 boy cursed as he got to his feet and wiped off his parents. "Sorry Brady."

Brady shook his head angrily. "It doesn't matter."

"Just wait him out," came a voice from the end. "He can't stay in that tree forever."

Dean glanced over to see Jo. Her gaze was partially turned on her fellow Careers but also towards him. There was something about this that he didn't like. That he was confused about.

"You're right," said the girl from District 4. "Why don't we get some rest? Twelve's right."

Brady, Ruby, Gordon, and Casey all nodded and began to prepare to bunker down for the night. Dean belted himself back into the tree and covered his legs with his blanket. He watched the Careers all fall asleep one by one, totally oblivious to the world around them and how dangerous it was.

Just as he was about to doze off, he saw movement from the ground below. Glancing down, he saw a blond head shifting. Jo got to her feet and stared at Dean. Their eyes locked and his brows raised. She moved an arm and pointed to something off to the right of Dean's position.

Then he saw it.

A brenzi nest.

Brenzis were a mutant form of rats that ate human flesh. They had been in one other Games and had taken out three tributes when one of their nests was accidentally uncovered.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe that Jo was actually risking her neck working with the Careers just to help him survive. He couldn't believe that she was actually suggesting that he send a brenzi nest down sixty feet into the den of Careers. He couldn't believe, didn't want to actually believe, that all of this was happening.

He let a stiff nod come out, realizing how much he needed water at that moment. As soon as this was over and if he made it through it, he was going to have to find water. And soon.

Jo settled back down onto her bed but he could see that she was awake. He imagined the kind of show that the Capitol was getting. The star-crossed lovers risking their lives to help each other survive in the most gruesome of ways.

He would have to wait until the morning to saw away at the branch. If he tried to do it now, the Careers would hear it and wake up. Jo wouldn't be able to hold them off for him.

So, he settled back for the night, keeping his knife tightly gripped in his hand.

* * *

After about four hours of dozy sleep, Dean was awakened by the sound of a cannon firing. For a second, he thought he had missed the anthem but then realized a tribute had just died. He shimmied to his right and took the time of the anthem to begin sawing away at the branch. He could feel Jo's eyes on him.

The anthem ended when he was about three quarters of the way through. Taking a very dangerous chance, he lifted up one of his legs and gave the branch a mighty kick, almost toppling out of the tree himself as the nest fell.

For a second, it was like time stood still. Then Jo was the first on her feet. She dived over the Careers' legs and quickly headed up one of the trees. To Dean's utter surprise, she could climb.

The Careers didn't awake until the rats began knawing on their skin. Crying out, they all began to flee. But two Careers, Casey and the girl from District 4 were already taken over and knocked back to the ground. Dean closed his eyes away from the disgusting sight of Casey and the District 4 girl being eaten alive.

Brady, Gordon, and Ruby escaped through the bramble, heading back to the lake. He could hear their squeals of pain and guessed that a few of the rats were hanging on tight.

"Dean, the bow!" shouted Jo.

To his dismay, Dean could see the bow starting to be picked up by the mutts and carried away. He hurried climbed down, ignoring the searing pain in his inflamed joints and made a mad dive for the bow and the arrows. Luckily, Casey's body was protecting the quiver full of arrows but he was terrified he was going to lose that bow.

Another pair of booted feet hit the ground. A smaller body dashed by him and he could see the bow getting snatched up before the mutts took it away. He caught the bow as it was thrown in his direction and he quickly slung it over his back, making back for his tree of safety.

A cannon fired, followed by another. Casey and the girl from District 4 had just died.

"Dean!"

Dean looked up to see Jo. She was back in her tree but not very high. Her hands were bleeding profusely from the bites of the brenzis and there was a gash on her cheek but she looked all right. His own knee was bleeding, having slashed it open on the sharp branches.

"Dean, get out of here, all right?"

"Jo, I can't-"

Over Jo's shoulder, he could see Brady making his way back into the now clearing out brush of woods. His saber was raised and he had murder in his eyes.

"Oh, no you don't!" Dean found himself shouting. He quickly notched an arrow and let it fly. It buried itself deep into Brady's shoulder, causing the District 2 boy to howl with pain. He notched another arrow. "The next one goes in your heart!" he snarled. He was about to let it fly but Brady was smarter and he took off running back into the thick.

Dean looked around, making sure no other Careers or little strange creatures were going to fly out of nowhere. That was when he leapt down from the tree, landing softly on his feet. Jo did the same.

"That was idiotic," he said, glaring at her. "You could have died."

"So could have you. But you did that anyway," snapped his blond counterpart. And maybe even his friend.

Sighing, Dean looked around. He imagined the eyes of the outside world watching them at that moment and knew exactly what he had to do.

"Allies?"

Jo rolled her eyes before nodding. "Fine. If you feel like you absolutely have to be allies with me-"

"Never mind then," Dean started to walk away. "I'll see you later."

"Dean!"

Not helping the smile that crossed his lips, Dean turned back. "You're going to be the death of me, Jo Harvelle."

"Not my intention, Dean Winchester," murmured the girl.

* * *

**Okay, first chapter of the actual Hunger Games! I hope you liked. I am trying so hard not to have it be the same as the book. I know the nest of creatures falling into the Career bunch is the same but I have put so many other twists and turns in it that I hope it's enough to make it good. Okay, now I'm babbling. **

**Next chapter will be Dean and Jo as allies and also another addition into their group. I think you can guess who that will be. **

**Also, I need help! I am thinking about rewriting Catching Fire Supernatural style but I am having trouble finding someone who can take the place of Finnick Odair. Everyone else I've got picked but the only person I can think of for Finnick is Adam Milligan. Well, Jake Abel's name has been thrown in for the role of Finnick Odair for Catching Fire (as well as Jensen Ackles) but I really don't want to use their brother as Finnick. Any ideas? **

**Okay, reviews are loved. Thank you so much for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed. Like I said, REVIEWS ARE LOVED! **


	7. Allies

_**Allies**_

* * *

As they walked along, Dean realized how thirsty he was. After the craziness of what they just went through, his need for water had all been forgotten.

"Hey, you look like you need water." Jo just read his mind.

"Yes. Thank you!" He almost grabbed the water bottle away from her and chugged a few sips. He knew better than to down the whole bottle because it was sure to come right back up.

"Come on. I know of a water supply that's pretty far away from the lake," said Jo as she took back the bottle.

"Thank you so much," Dean murmured, feeling the moisture come back to his cracked tongue. "Thank you."

* * *

Jo showed Dean her water source, a small creek hidden up in the hills away from the Careers' lair. She had found it the first day before she had joined the Careers to keep an eye out for Dean.

"Why, Jo?" he asked her quietly. "You know that I am pretty good at taking care of myself."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's kind of been bent into my brain from the time we were kids."

Dean didn't answer.

* * *

"How many of us are left?"

"There was a cannon this morning, right before I dropped the brenzi nest. Then Casey and the girl from Four. That's three there."

"And then there was..." Jo silently counted off on her fingers. "There's the other boy from One. His name is Gordon. There's Brady and Ruby. The boy from Six, the boy from Ten. Both tributes from Eleven. And us. So that's nine. Wait, I'm forgetting someone."

"Foxfire," Dean said quietly, staring down at his feet.

"Who?"

"The girl from Five. The one with the red hair. I call her Foxfire. I have no idea why but I nicknamed her that."

"That makes ten of us. And with whoever's cannon went off, that would be nine," mumbled Jo. "God, nine people left and it's only the second day."

"Happy Hunger Games, Joanna Harvelle."

* * *

Night fell quickly. Dean and Jo set up a small camp and to where they would take turns with the watch. He made Jo crash first and he sat up, leaning against a wide tree with his bow at the ready.

The anthem played and three pictures skimmed across the evening sky. Dean watched Casey's picture shine, then the girl from Four, and then the boy from Ten. Officially nine people left in the Hunger Games.

As Dean rested his head back, some movement caught the corner of his eye. Turning, he quickly notched an arrow, keeping his bow up.

Two dark brown and gold eyes stared at him through the brush.

For a split second, he thought it was some sort of animal. But then he realized it was somebody else.

"Ben?" he whispered, lowering his bow. "Ben, is that you?"

The eyes blinked and then they disappeared.

Sighing and a little disappointed, Dean let himself rest against the tree again. Turning slightly, his eyes fell on Jo's sleeping form.

She was curled up into a ball inside the sleeping bag. Her dark blond tresses were strewn across her face and as she breathed, he could see the strands rising and falling in the gentle breeze of her breath.

Smiling, Dean reached over and gently stroked the hair away from her nose. He brushed his fingertips across her forehead, feeling the coolness of her skin.

A sudden realization struck him, remembering the fact that he was being watched by millions of people. He could practically hear Bobby's voice telling him to play it up even more.

How the hell was he supposed to do that? He didn't want to lead Jo on. He didn't want to lead himself on. He couldn't forget about Lisa. Lisa had been there for him ever since his mother had died. Since his father had shut down. She had helped him learn how to survive. He was pretty sure that everyone back at District 12 was thinking that the two of them would eventually marry one day.

But now Jo's in the picture. He had had no intention of bringing her into the picture He had no idea how in the world he was supposed to feel about her. Granted, he liked her. They had been friends before this whole fiasco but now everything had changed. The moment that his brother's name had come out of that bowl at the Reaping, everything was different.

Hell, everything had changed the moment that her own name had come out of that bowl.

And in the Hunger Games, nothing was ever the same again.

* * *

"You let me sleep the whole night!"

"You needed the rest," said Dean, glancing over at his ally.

Jo was sitting up on her tailbone, her blond curls a disarray around her pretty face. She was scowling at him, her mouth in a slack frown.

"So do you," she snapped, jumping to her feet and grabbing her knife. She tucked it back into her belt and ran her fingers through her unruly hair, tying it a slack ponytail. "So what now, tiger boy?"

"We move."

And so they moved.

They moved along in the most uncomfortable silence in the world.

Finally...

"Okay, Dean, this is ridiculous. We have to talk about something," Jo burst out, almost stunning Dean into grabbing an arrow.

"Please don't do that," he snapped, taking a deep breath.

"Sorry."

"What the hell do you want to talk about? This isn't a nice little get together, Jo. This is-"

"I know, Dean!" snarled Jo. "I know. But I need to hold onto something. I need to hold onto whatever link I have left to the outside world. And like it or not, that link is you!"

Dean stepped back, staring at her. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"How do you think Bobby won his Games?"

Jo blinked.

"I don't know. He's Bobby Singer. How do you think he won his Games?"

And they moved again.

* * *

"How do you want to do this? Do you just want to wait this out and hope that the Careers and the others kill themselves off or do you want to be in the thick of things?"

Dean couldn't help the alarm at Jo's question. "Since when do you want to kill anyone?"

"I don't, stupid," she snapped. "I just want to get the hell out of here-Dean, look!"

Her face was contorted into an expression of alarm and slight confusion. Dean turned carefully to see a rustling around in the bushes, exactly like what he had seen the night before.

"That's him," he whispered. He knew exactly who it was but couldn't help keeping his bow at the ready. He couldn't take anymore chances.

"Who?"

"Ben."

"Oh, my-"

"A bigger group is better. We can survive longer."

"Yeah, and later kill that little boy in the end!" Jo snarled.

"What about me, Jo?" Dean shot back. "Are you going to try to kill me in the end? What if it's down to the two of us? Are you going to try to kill me?"

"No, of course not!" The words flew out of her mouth quicker than she could control them. But it was the truth. She would never try to kill Dean Winchester.

She would sooner die.

* * *

Two more days went by without much activity. One more tribute died, leaving eight behind. The remaining Careers were still going strong with Brady, Ruby, and Gordon. Dean realized then that they were truly the ones to beat, having had trained for these Games their whole entire lives. But with Rachel still out there, along with little Ben, it seemed different. Strange, even.

It was early in the morning when cries of terror awoke Dean out of a hazy sleep.

Jo was already on her feet, her knife ready. She tossed Dean his bow and he grabbed his quiver of arrows, jumping to his feet and pulling on his coat.

"Where did it come from?" he asked her as he adjusted his bow on his back.

"Over there," Jo whispered with a gesture of the head.

"All right, come on."

They assembled through the bray of bushes and bramble as quietly as they could. There was another horrible cry and it led them deeper into the woods.

"Wait, look!" Jo grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him back just as he was about to hit something. Dean's eyes followed her finger and saw the thin snare that was leading across the leaf covered ground and up through the tree. One more step and his leg would have been snatched up into the viney ropes.

"Booby trap," Dean murmured quietly, taking a cautious step back. "Thank you. That's the second time you've saved my life."

"Hey, you can thank me later," Jo whispered as she glanced around. Her eyes peeled the brush and weeds, unable to see any sign of movement.

"Just go forward," he whispered back as he worked a careful leg over the trap. He leaned a hand back and caught hers, linking their fingers together. She watched his movements and copied them and seconds later, they were safely on the other side.

That was when another scream of terror and something that sounded suspiciously like pain ran through the air. It made the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand on end.

"Come on!"

He took off running, his bow in his hands with an arrow notched. Jo followed him close behind, her long hair blowing in the breeze. As they ran, the screams grew louder and clearer, closer than ever before.

And then there was a clearing. And then there was a boy that was tied to a tree and blood running down his face.

And then there was Brady.

"Brady!" Dean yelled angrily, shooting the arrow that he had notched. It landed with a clean thwack into Brady's shoulder, knocking him sideways and down into the brambly vines.

Brady let out a roar of pain and quickly pulled the arrow out, letting it fall to the ground, coated with blood. He leapt to his face, holding his machete in front of him. Dean was ready for him, another arrow notched and pointed right at his heart.

"Let him go," Dean snarled.

"What do you care?" Brady snapped, holding a hand to his shoulder, trying to stem the flow of blood. "He's just another one you will have to kill in the end. What do you care if I kill him or not?"

"What you're doing is sick, Two," Dean whispered lethally. "Torturing a twelve year old child for your own enjoyment?"

"It's all I have ever known, Twelve," replied Brady. "I have been trained for this my whole life."

"Trained to kill but not trained to torture," muttered Dean. He pulled the string back. "Sorry, Brady."

"Dean!"

The wind was knocked out of Dean as he found himself plummeting to the forest floor, his face planted into the dark moss. A body was strewn across his, strong hands holding him down. His bow was wrestled out of his hands and he heard the strong snap of the string as the arrow was released. There was a cry of agony and the soft gurgles of blood loss that met his ears, causing him to wince slightly in disgust.

It was almost five minutes later before he pulled his face out of the ground and looked up. Brady was gone and so was Jo. He looked around wildly, panic seizing his heart until he finally saw Jo cutting Ben loose from the tree and gently pressing a cloth to his bleeding forehead.

"What the hell happened?" he snarled, glaring viciously at the girl. "What the hell did you do? And where's Brady?"

"He had District 10 waiting up in the tree," Jo answered simply as she guided the weak boy back up the hill towards him. "I don't know why District 10 was even with him but he was."

"Damn it," Dean cursed, pulling himself to his feet. He had never let himself get so unfocused before. All he could think of was killing Brady and getting Ben to safety. His own well being had been the last thing on his mind.

Jo watched his downcast eyes for a second before wrapping an arm more securely around Ben's shoulders. At that moment, a cannon blasted and Ben shrank against her. "It's okay," she murmured into his curly hair. "It's okay." The tribute from Ten had just died.

Dean walked up the hill to where Ten had fallen. He carefully pulled the arrow out of his neck and wiped the blood off on some deer grass that was nearby and replaced it into the quiver that was still on his back. He couldn't believe how clean Jo's shot had been.

"Where the hell did you learn how to shoot?" Dean asked her as she and Ben came to his side.

Jo shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno. Just somehow happened."

He squinted, disbelief all over his face. "You're lying."

Jo shook her head. "No, I'm not. When I saw Ten, all I could think of was keeping you alive. Call it an adrenaline surge."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Jo." His attention was finally falling on the small boy that was still wrapped in Jo's arms. "Hi Ben."

The boy looked up at him, his eyes shining with fear and pain. "Hi," he whispered quietly.

"It's okay, Ben," Jo murmured again, gently brushing her hand across the top of his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Dean, taking a cautious and careful step towards the boy. He took it as a good sign when Ben didn't back away or shrink against Jo again.

His eyes took in the child. It scared him how much he reminded him of Sam. The skin was a darker color and the eyes were blue instead of hazel but his small size and stature and the way he was...he was Sam.

And for the millionth time in these Games, Dean thanked God he had volunteered in Sam's place.

"I know," Ben murmured, jolting Dean out of his thoughts. "I saw what you did for your brother."

Apparently, this kid could read minds?

Dean smiled slightly, lowering his guard. "Would you like to be allies with Jo and I?"

"You want to be allies with me?" asked Ben, pulling himself away from Jo and focusing his blue eyed gaze on the elder tribute. "Me?"

"It's almost a week into the Games and you are still alive," smiled Dean. "You are pretty skilled at something."

"I was found by Brady and that District Ten tribute. I was trying to get a squirrel," he mumbled, staring down at his chest.

"Oh, well, we can take care of that," chuckled Jo. "Why don't we set up camp and Dean will hunt for us?"

"Are you sure you don't want to hunt, sharpshooter?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jo ignored him. "Let's go."

"Okay," Ben agreed happily. "But I don't have a pack anymore. They took my stuff when they found me."

"Come on, let's see what Ten has on him and make you a new pack," said Jo. She gently touched Ben's shoulder and they approached the dead tribute and grabbed his pack, rummaging through it.

Dean looked around, anxious to get his bow back onto his back. He felt weird without it. It was a part of him.

"Jo, where's my bow?"

"I put it down after shooting him," said Jo, her eyes still down on the small pack in her hands. "God, this guy thought a lot of himself. All there is is some dried fruit, a small knife, and a water flask. They must have a higher food source somewhere."

Dean didn't listen as he continued to look for his bow. "Where did you put it down?"

"Dean, it's right by that tree-oh, my god."

"It's not here, Jo!" Dean snarled, down on his hands and knees and pawing through the high bramble and grass. "It's gone."

"Oh, Dean..."

Dean wildly looked around, finding himself facing the terrified blond girl again.

"My bow. It's gone."

* * *

**Dun-dun-dun! **

**Cliffhanger! **

**That bow is Dean's lifeline. Without it, he's screwed. I was worried that this was going to be too similar to Hunger Games but right now I am doing a pretty good job at keeping it different (if I do say so myself, heehee). **

**So, this is the beginning of the ally ship between Jo, Dean, and Ben. Jo has been deemed as a pretty good ally to Dean, having saved his life THREE times already. Of course, now Dean is going to be pretty ticked off at her for losing his bow. But it wasn't carelessness on Jo's part, it was her part of keeping Dean alive (like Peeta keeping Katniss alive). Peeta could have made a mistake like that and so could Jo. **

**I do hope that this is working out at showing Jo's sassy and strong side. How many times did she save Dean's life on the show? And here, she's saved him three times in just a matter of days, along with Ben. **

**I am so sorry I haven't updated in such a long time. I just lost my inspiration to write this after running into a horrible case of writer's block. But yesterday was my birthday and I had an absolutely fantastic time and boom! My inspiration was back. **

**Next chapter will probably be short with Dean getting his bow back and also Jo and Dean learning more about Ben. And then the next chapter after that, things will get a little messy once again. I will try to update more often, I promise. **

**If you liked, review! If you didn't like, like some childish person that shall reman nameless, than don't review. Don't waste your time by leaving something scathing because that is so childish and stupid. But like I said, if you enjoyed, please review. I love hearing people's take. **

**Have a fantastic and safe weekend, everyone. God bless. **


	8. Ben

_**Ben**_

* * *

"Dean?"

He knew that he shouldn't blame her. It hadn't been her fault. She had done it to save his life. Again. But it had been his bow. His lifeline. And now that lifeline was gone and he felt totally vulnerable. He felt stripped naked and open, absolutely nothing covering him and protecting him.

"What?"

"We'll get it back, Dean."

"I believe you."

* * *

He stared at the small fixings that they had left. Four strips of beef, ten small pieces of dried fruit from the dead tribute's backpack, two bottles of water, half of a rabbit that he had taken down before finding Ben, and a handful of nuts and berries that Ben had actually found. Ben had proved to be quite the scavenger, showing the both of them quite a few specified roots and berries that were edible.

Dean had been working on making a new bow. He could hear Lisa's words in his head, the words she had assured him of before being taken away.

A weak bow is better than no bow.

He still had his arrows. At least, what was left of his arrows. He was down to five, including the one that Jo had killed the tribute with. It was still resonating in his head how much he owed that girl.

He couldn't understand why she had come out and proclaimed her feelings for him on national television. She had to have done that just to throw him off. But then again, she had risked everything to get in with the Careers and lead them away from him in the first days of the Games. It didn't make sense though. None of it made sense.

And he hated every minute of it.

If Sam were here, he would be slapped him upside the head. Sam had always had the ability to see deep into somebody's soul. That had been his gift in life. He was gentle and caring. Whenever Dean tried to teach him how to hunt, he would freak out and not allow him to shoot anything while he was there. When he had killed a squirrel in front of him, Sam didn't stop crying for an hour. That was when Dean knew all the hunting would fall onto his shoulders. But also when Sam's twelfth birthday grew closer, he knew that somebody else would have to learn just in case. Lisa had been the one to teach him how to set traps and he had taught her how to shoot. She had her own bow and set of arrows hidden deep in the woods of District 12. She was a woman true to her word, he knew she was keeping an eye on his father and brother.

It didn't make it any easier.

Movement behind Dean made him come out of his thoughts. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Ben pulled himself out of Dean's sleeping bag.

"I thought you were asleep?" he asked quietly.

Ben shook his head, sleepily rubbing his knuckles into his eyes. "I had a bad dream."

Dean sighed, glancing back at the weak construction in his hands. "Yeah, that's pretty common here. Do you want to talk about it?"

Ben shook his head, pulling his coat tighter around him as he sank down beside Dean on the log. He looked at the frame of the new bow that still lay rested in Dean's hands and let out a small sigh of his own.

"Jo feels really bad about your bow," he murmured.

"It wasn't her fault," Dean answered. It wasn't Jo's fault. But he couldn't help feeling a little upset with her. He couldn't lie to himself about that.

"What's District 12 like?" Ben suddenly asked. He unconsciously shifted closer to Dean in an attempt to keep warm.

"District 12?" repeated Dean, slightly surprised at the question. "Well, um, it's small. And shabby too. Nobody really pays attention to it."

"Except now," said Ben. "They're going to be there interviewing your family members now."

"They are?"

"We're down to the final eight," said the boy. He counted off on his fingers. "There's us, that's three. District 2, the boy from District 1, the girl from District 5, and my counterpart, Rachel."

"Rachel? That's her name?"

"Yeah."

"So they'll be at our homes interviewing our family members?" Dean asked, shallowly remembering the last three Games that he had watched on television. Whenever it came down to the final eight, family members of the tributes would be interviewed live on the TV. That meant Sam and his father would be interviewed. They would be forced to talk about him. Jo's parents would be interviewed.

"And with what you did for your little brother and Jo telling everyone that she liked you, your District will be pretty popular this year."

Dean placed the contraption on the ground, keeping his knife at the ready in case of intruders. He looked over at Jo who was still curled into her sleeping bag, dead to the world. Despite being dirty from head to toe and the malnutrition evident in her features, she finally looked a little peaceful. Must be good dreams for her tonight.

"I guess you're right about that, Ben," he whispered, his eyes glazing over in the dim light. He was quiet for a moment. "We're the coal mining district. Once you turn eighteen years old, that's what the rest of your life is like. Especially if you live in the Seam."

"The Seam?"

"The poorer side of the District. If you were a merchant than you were a little bit more well to do. My mother grew up as a merchant but when she married my father, she moved to the Seam and had my brother and I."

"What happened to your mother?" asked Ben.

"She...uh...passed away when I was eleven. From pneumonia," Dean found himself confessing. "My dad had it too and got better but he never got over my mom dying."

"I'm so sorry, Dean," murmured that small voice at his elbow. Dean glanced down into those chestnut brown eyes and gave a small smile. "My dad passed when I was seven, right before my youngest sister was born," he continued. "My mom remarried but it's been difficult for us to survive."

"You're agriculture, right?"

"Hmmhmm. Been working in the fields since I could walk."

That couldn't be a fun life.

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I have three younger sisters. I'm the only boy," said Ben. "My mom and I have been taking care of our family together. My stepfather never really did much."

"Just think though," said Dean. "If you win, you will never have to worry about that ever again."

"_If _I win," says Ben. "_If _I win. That's a really big 'if', Dean. Brady, Ruby, and Gordon are still out there, as well as that girl from District 5."

"And your counterpart," says Dean. "Rachel."

"Rachel," repeats Ben.

Dean tried to ignore the look that crossed Ben's face at the mention of Rachel. He started to lean forward but quickly leaned back, not wanting to say anything that might upset the young boy. He instead grabbed up a long strip of groosling rib and held it out to the boy.

"You look hungry," he states.

Ben eyes the groosling. "I've never had that much to myself before."

"Seriously?" District Eleven is the argriculture district. Shouldn't they have a constant supply of food?

Like he had read his mind, Ben answers. "Everything that we grow is taken away and rationed out into tessarae for the other Districts. And that's limited in the first place. The good stuff goes to the Capitol."

"Shocking," Dean grumbles, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He listens to the sound of Ben's quiet chewing and is relieved that he has accepted the bird meat. He just wished he could take down a few more but he was too terrified to even try to shoot his new bow.

"Are you going to try your new bow?" asked Ben, wiping his greasy hands on his pant legs. Dean's eyebrows shot up into his rumpled hair. This kid really did read minds.

"I'm a little freaked out. I was so used to that other one," he admitted. "And this one is so weak."

"It's better than nothing," Ben agreed.

"You're right about that," Dean chuckled. He pulled an arrow out of the quiver, aligned it on the thin twine and notched it. He pulled the string back as far and as strong as he dared, finally letting the arrow fly.

It burrowed itself with a resounding thud into the trunk of a tree more than forty yards away.

"What the-?"

The loud thwack had awoken a very disgruntled Jo. She sat bolt upright in her sleeping bag, her blond curls a rat's nest around her face and a grimace that could kill on her usually lovely face.

"What the hell are you two doing?"

Dean and Ben both lost it, doubling over in laughter. Jo continued to glare furiously at them, not finding it funny at all.

Dean held his side, feeling tears blooming in his eyes. This laughter hurt his belly, it felt so strange and foreign. The muscles in his cheeks felt oddly tightly, like he hadn't used them in quite some time.

And it felt so damn good.

"Take that, Capitol."

* * *

His thoughts were wandering back to home as they moved.

He remembered when he was eleven years old. His mother had just died from pneumonia and it was right after he was beginning to learn how to make snares to trap things in the woods. He managed to catch one squirrel but it had practically tripped over his snare in an attempt to get an acorn.

"Are you the one that has been stealing from my snares?"

He whipped around, holding the dead animal in one hand and his knife in the other.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Have you been stealing from my snares?" asked the black haired girl.

And this was Lisa Braeden. She was one year older than him, having lost her father recently and working twice as hard with her mother to keep her five younger siblings alive. Later, her cousin Sarah Blake came to live with them after her parents' death and that heaped even more responsibility on the young woman's shoulders.

"You know, that snare is pretty pitiful," said Lisa, eyeing that ragged thing that was still hanging in the air between them.

His face burned and his chest puffed up. "I would like to see you do better!"

"What's your name?" she asked him, her grey eyes filled with concern. She wasn't really trying to make him angry. She was trying to help.

"Dean," he whispered, his green eyes downcast onto the forest floor.

"Dean, my name is Lisa," said the girl as she stepped closer. "How old are you?"

"Eleven."

"I just turned twelve. First year in the Reaping. You're lucky. The odds are still in your favor," she said as she gently pulled the patchy snare down and examined it.

"As soon as my birthday comes, I am going to sign up for tessarae," he said quickly, trying to be defensive against nothing in particular.

"I've already signed up twice," she sighed, carefully looping the knot and pulling it back down to the floor. "Already, the odds are not in my favor."

"There are thousands of names in that bowl," he said.

"I know. But with the more tessarae you sign up for, more times your name goes into that bowl. Of course, there is another way."

"Another way?"

"You're doing it already, Dean. Hunting. And to tell you the truth, you're not off to a bad start."

And that was the beginning of their seven year friendship. Lisa had been the one he had come to depend on so much, it didn't matter if she was a girl. She was a hell of a lot stronger than he ever was and knew how to survive. But what scared him was that she had hate in her heart.

Already, the differences between her and Jo would stand out to the highest brink. Because even though Jo had a smart mouth and was sassy and strong, she still had a lot of hope for the future. Well, for at least as long as he had known her. Right now, being stuck in the middle of this arena and never making it out of here, it was hard to hold onto hope.

* * *

"We grow everything under the sun. Of course, we would pick it all and it would get sent to the Capitol where they would keep the good stuff and the leftovers would get sent back."

"That makes sense. Especially with all that food we saw," Jo chuckled dryly. "But that's why you can recognize good things to eat around here and stuff that's poison, huh?"

"Yeah," Ben sighed, taking a small sip from his water bottle.

"You're a good addition to the family," said Dean, scuffing his hand across the top of Ben's head. Ben laughed and pushed him away.

"Watch it, Twelve."

"No, you watch it, Eleven," chuckled the older teenager. He let out a sigh. "Well, I hate to break up this adorable little get together but we need to keep moving. We should really get into a more secluded spot for the night. Maybe in the trees. Ben, you're a good climber, right?"

"Yes."

"Then help little Jo here. She can't climb to save her life."

"_Dean__!_"

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Her soft voice was at his ear. He turned his head and glanced down into her coffee brown eyes.

"I'm fine, why?"

She shook her head. "No reason."

"Liar."

Jo didn't answer. She leaned her head back against the trunk, carefully adjusting the thick cord wrapped around her thighs.

"Just remember, Dean," she whispered, looking over at the boy that was nestled safely into the crook of a lower branch. "He's not Sam."

"I know that," he sighed.

"Are you sure?" asked Jo, her eyes focused deeply on his face.

"Why the hell are you asking me that?"

"I see the way you look at him," she murmured feebly, becoming aware that all eyes of the Capitol were on them and that she better shut up.

"I know he's not Sam, Jo," Dean snarled, turning away from her as far as he could move in the tree.

She didn't answer. Soon after he could hear the even sounds of breathing and knew she had dropped off to sleep.

Was she right? Was he looking at Ben like he was Sam?

He did remind him of Sam a lot. The small stature, the big eyes, the wavy hair. The personality. But why?

And when the end finally did come, would he be able to handle it?

* * *

**All right, another update! **

**This is a filler chapter actually, our duo in their group with Ben and starting to get close to him. Jo, of course, is trying to remain a little distant because she knows what's coming but Dean hasn't had any problem getting close to Ben. When they rescued him from Brady, of course she would pick him up and hold him but now they are over a week into the Games. **

**Next chapter is going to be more serious. Dean is going to get his bow back but it's not going to be all sunshine and rainbows in those circumstances. **

**Reviews are much appreciated. I love them so much. **


	9. Crash

_**Crash**_

* * *

**a/n: I'm back! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I warn you. It's a sad one. **

**Please listen to the song "Iridescent" by Gavin Mikhail (his version, not Linkin Park's) while you read. **

* * *

The small boy woke early. It wasn't even dawn yet.

He glanced over to his allies. Dean was one branch below, still safely belted in while Jo was beside him.

Then he heard it.

Being from District 11 and having to learn ways to survive in case of getting separated had turned out to help him very much in these Games from hell. So he could pick up sounds of movers from a far off distance.

Ben carefully loosened the belt and slipped out of it without Jo noticing. He retightened it around her and began to climb down the tree as slowly and quietly as he could. His small stature was a plus in this kind of predicament. He had to get out of there and away from them just in case. Just in case of the worst.

Of course, as soon as his feet hit the ground, Dean woke up.

Damn it.

Ben froze, pressing his body against the tree, grateful for his black jacket and his dark hair.

"Hmm? Wazzagoin?" Dean rubbed his bleary eyes. He glanced at the sky and could guess that it was around five in the morning. "Jo? Ben? Wake up." He lifted a hand and slapped Jo's boot above him.

"Huh? Whodat?" Jo awoke with a start.

"Come on you two. We have to get moving," Dean mumbled. He started to take the belt off of his legs.

With the rustling of fabric making enough noise, Ben took that as his cue. He moved the opposite way, into the trees and around the cross line. He would have to circle around.

"Dean? Where's Ben?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean leaned his head back to look onto Jo's branch and she was quite alone. "Damn it, Jo!"

"Don't blame me, Dean!" Jo snarled back. "He's got to be around here somewhere."

That was when Dean heard the crackling of branches. "Wait a minute," he whispered. He didn't dare call out.

"Is it the Careers?" Jo murmured.

"No."

Dean peered closer into the lightening woods around them. And then he saw it.

A small, lone figure, quickly disappearing into the brush.

"Damn it, it's Ben!"

* * *

The child knew that Dean and Jo had figured out everything. He wasn't stupid. And he knew he had to move quickly to get there or they were going to catch up or the Careers were going to find him.

For once, Ben was grateful for his small size. He could move faster, hide easier, jump higher. And he could get to that damn bow now that he was away from his allies.

The remaining Careers were out hunting. He didn't know if it was for him and the rest of the tributes or if it was for food. In truth, he didn't really give a damn. Ben knew it couldn't be far away because they hadn't left anyone at their tiny camp. His eyes were ready to bug out of his head when he saw the mounds of supplies and food that they had taken control of at the Cornucopia.

And then he saw it. For some idiotic reason, they had left behind Dean's bow right at their burned out fireplace. Ben almost started to laugh when he saw it, knowing that it was Dean's bow from just looking at it. How could Brady be that stupid?

Just as he started for it, something clicked in his mind.

The Careers really couldn't be _that _stupid.

Ben carefully prowled the premises, his eyes staring deeply into the crevices of earth. He could practically imagine a camera following his every move, wondering along with him if he was going to be blown up at any second.

And then he saw it.

There was a trip wire set carefully around the base of the small camp. It surrounded the supplies and the fire hole. Everything was safely covered by that trip wire and Ben could only guess (didn't really want to know) what would happen if he hit it. The wire was also just the right height so he couldn't jump over it but...he could skim underneath it. Neither Dean nor Jo would be able too.

So maybe the Careers really were that stupid.

Ben took one step closer. And then another. He fell down onto his hands and knees and began to crawl towards the base. His hands touched the ground easily, trying not to push down very hard. He thanked the Heavenly Father or whatever lived in the Great Unknown that he was small and didn't weigh much. It actually served greater for him to get around quicker. If this was Dean or even Jo, there would be some problems.

His head dipped underneath the wire and then he froze.

Something wasn't right.

He could feel the pounding footsteps under his hands. The urgency and the fear were almost radiated through those footsteps.

"Ben!"

Ben's hand reached out and closed over the silky wooden handle of the bow. With one quick movement, he pulled it out from under the wires, bolting to his feet and receding back the same way he came. Dean and Jo were at the line of the woods, fear etched all over their faces.

He couldn't understand why they looked so scared. He was fine. He had gotten Dean's bow back. They were all right.

"Ben, hurry!" Dean called again. "Come on, run!"

Suddenly, he realized that he wasn't alone.

"_Winchester_!"

Gordon's voice was low and grating. And it was filled with so much violence.

"Dean, catch!"

His hand flew back and the bow was suddenly airborne. Jo jumped out of the way as Dean leapt for it. He caught it with one hand, twisted it around and it was suddenly loaded with an arrow.

"Ben, look out!"

A stinging pain hit his lower back and Ben felt himself fall, face first into the sketchy ground. His arms circled his head, protecting it.

"_NO!" _

The arrow whizzed over his head and met its mark with a sickening crunch. He could barely hear the gags and gurgles as the last of Gordon's life dwindled out of him.

Arms were around him, lifting him up. Strong arms that were carrying him back into the woods and away from the Careers' camp. Dean carried him easily, almost as if he was a sack of flour.

He couldn't understand. He just couldn't understand.

What was so wrong?

He had gotten Dean's bow back and Gordon was dying.

The cannon blasted as that thought crossed his mind.

Okay, never mind. He was dead.

"Ben? Ben, hold on, okay? You're going to be fine."

Of course he was going to be fine. Everything was all right.

Dean lowered him down onto a bed of soft honey grass. His face was a mask of grief and rage and his hands were coated with something sticky and almost tar like.

"Dean? Are you bleeding?" Ben asked quietly, ignoring the slick pain in his back or the fact he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"No, Ben. I'm fine," Dean whispered, wiping the substance away on his pant legs. "I'm okay. And so are you."

"Dean…" Jo's voice was so quiet. Ben couldn't remember when he had ever heard her so soft spoken. Throughout his few days with the two of them, Dean and Jo were always arguing over one thing or another. It didn't matter what it was about, it was always a call for a round of bickering.

"No…" Dean snapped cruelly in her direction. He placed a hand onto Ben's lower side but pulled it away, more of that red stuff caked on his hand.

Ben stared at his hand for a minute before he realized exactly what had happened. His own hands reached down and he felt the handle of the small knife burrowed deep into his side. His fingers closed around it but he didn't dare pull it out.

It was him.

He was dying.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. "Ben, can you hear me? I'm so sorry. I should have gotten there sooner."

Ben weakly shook his head. "No, Dean."

"I'm going to take care of you," Dean murmured. Something hot fell on his cheek. Ben reached up and found a bead of water on his fingers. "It's my job to take care of you. To protect you. You're going to be all right."

"Dean…" Jo was speaking again. And again, Dean ignored her.

They felt so far away. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was almost like…falling asleep but still trying to stay awake.

He had always hated to go to sleep. He had never wanted to miss anything at all. The world, no matter how hard it was, was still a beautiful place.

There was something else at that moment. Something much brighter.

He didn't want to leave them. He hated to leave them there alone.

But they would be okay. Especially Dean. They would both be okay. They could hold on to each other and never let each other go. He hoped that they would. He hoped that they realized how much they truly needed each other.

The cannon went off once again. But this blast was different. It almost shook the whole earth.

And he felt himself letting go.

* * *

**Aw bwahh! So sad! **

**This is probably the saddest thing I have ever written. It makes me wanna cry right now. I loved Ben on the show and I loved his and Dean's relationship on the show. That's why I thought he was perfect to take the place of Rue in this story. **

**I thought it was more appropriate for this chapter to be from Ben's point of view and to have him not really aware of what was going on after Gordon stabbed him. I tried to have it be a little similar to Rue's death in the books and Sam's death on the series and have Dean whispering that he was going to take care of him and to ignore Jo's efforts to get through to him. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Would love to hear from you wonderful people again in some great reviews. **


	10. Song

_**Song**_

* * *

"What was your favorite musical?"

Jo slightly inclined her head to look at her companion. "Excuse me?"

Dean was staring out into the night, his knees drawn up to his chest, the quiver with seven arrows left still strapped onto his back and his bow clenched in one hand.

"You had to have liked something before this hellish nightmare began," he whispered, still not looking at her. "Musical? Play? Book? Anything."

Jo took a deep breath while shaking her head in worry. "Um, I liked _Cats_."

He burst out laughing, startling her into silence. "_Cats?_ Seriously?!"

"What's wrong with _Cats_? It happens to be one of the best musicals that ever graced this Earth!" She quickly shot back.

"It's a chick musical," Dean sighed.

"Well?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe you went for something slightly more hip than a chick musical."

"What's more hip?" Jo asked, an eyebrow raised.

"_Rock of Ages." _

"Oh, please! _Rock of Ages _is a million years old! Nobody listens to that anymore! Kind of helps that it's been banned for years."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "That's the Capitol for you. Takes away anything good in this world."

Jo's insides froze at Dean's words. She could almost see the Gamemakers quickly editing out those words, scrambling them and making them something else.

Dean got to his feet in a haste. He squirmed around and was facing Jo, wearing an expression that she had never, ever seen him wear before. Not even when his mother had died, not even when they were on the train and heading for the Capitol to their imminent doom.

"I mean, look at it. Ben's dead. District 1 killed him like he was a piece of meat on a freaking kabob. And you know the worst part, Jo? The worst part is that Gordon was aiming for me. He was coming for me! I tried to shoot him. I did. But Ben just...I didn't want to hit Ben. I thought I was going to hit Ben and-"

"Dean, stop!" Jo got to her feet as well, standing about two yards away from him. "Dean, you are making this so much harder on yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"How could you say that, Jo? How could you? After everything that has happened in this-" He threw his arms around. "This place, how could you say that?"

"What else do you want me to say?" she snapped. "Do you want me to blame you? Do you want me to let you blame yourself? Listen to me! This is not your fault! None of this is your fault!"

"Yes, it is! If I had just kept a better eye on him. If I hadn't fallen asleep that night, if I had just-"

"Ben is not Sam, okay?!" Jo leaned over and grabbed his arms. "He is not Sam. Sam is back in District 12, safe and sound."

"He may has well have been," Dean huffed. Hot tears were blurring his vision. "He may has well have been. Ben was a piece in these Games. He died like a piece on that chessboard. All because-"

"Dean, stop it!" Jo found herself lashing out. "Just stop, okay?" She let out a soft sigh and stepped closer to him. "None of this is your fault. None of it." Her voice was quieter. She took another cautious step.

"What am I supposed to do, Jo?"

Her heart broke at that minute. With those six little words, along with her name, that came out of his mouth, it just made her want to throw her arms around him and cry along with him.

Of course, she didn't do that.

With another heart shattering movement, Dean pawed at his throat. She heard the sounds of cord ripping and saw the amulet fly. He threw it with all his strength into the dirt, about fifteen yards away. Jo watched it for a second before slowly walking to the amulet and picking it up. Dean hadn't moved from where she had left him when she returned.

Taking a deep breath, she took cautious steps back to him.

He was breathing heavily and tears were slowly streaming down his face. Heartbreakingly quiet sobs were breaking from his throat and he was constantly trying to stop the flow of tears to no avail.

Jo lifted his big and callused hand up, pulling his palm towards the sky. And then she dropped the amulet back into it, closing his fingers over it.

"You keep fighting."

She felt tears burn her eyes and then she did something she knew that everyone back at the Capitol would just 'love'. She gently wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest.

"You keep fighting," she whispered again.

Dean's arms lifted and were around her in seconds, pulling her even tighter against him. The simple contact, didn't matter what it was, was probably the most comforting of all.

* * *

He slept fitfully that night, dreams encasing his rest. Images of dying children, blood, and knives flying through the air was enough to make him fly awake with a scream in his throat.

"Dean?"

"I'm okay," he murmured. "I'm all right."

Jo was outside the little cove that they had made for themselves, leaning against a tree with her sleeping bag draped over her legs. Her wide brown eyes were evident in the darkness and he could see the worry laced all over her lovely features.

She didn't answer but did turn back to the watch. He laid back down into the bed of grass, desperate to find some sort of peace in this hellish nightmare. Just a little escape would be fine for a few hours.

Suddenly, he heard something that made his head shoot up again.

It was so soft and so tender like that it was almost hard to believe that it was coming from her. But it was there.

"_Any way you want it, that's the way you need it, any way you want it." _

A few lines of the song 'Any Way You Want It' from _Rock of Ages_.

Dean chuckled quietly to himself before letting his head finally fall back into the crook of his arm.

* * *

**Just a short little update of the aftermath of Ben's death. I just wanted to add a few tender moments between Dean and Jo because next chapter, it's all going to go to hell in a handbasket. :D**

**I know in the Hunger Games, I doubt it would be allowed for Dean and Jo to sing songs from Rock of Ages and Cats but this is my version and I can do anything I want! :D Heehee, just kidding. But to me, if Dean ever liked a musical, I think that he would like **_**Rock of Ages. **_**Jo is just so cat-like that hey, she might just like **_**Cats. **_**:P**

**Anyway, sorry so short. I hope you have enjoyed and don't forget to review! **


	11. Nation

_**Nation**_

* * *

**a/n: Please listen to the song "Seven Nation Army" by the White Stripes while you read. It's really a good song and there's lots of badass Dean in this chapter so it fits. **

* * *

He awoke within two hours to find Jo still awake and still alert. He shepherded her to the little cove and practically demanded that she get some rest. Of course, the second that her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.

Dean watched her sleep for a few seconds. He grabbed his bow and started for the mouth of the cove but not before leaning over Jo's sleeping form and pressing his lips to her forehead. He could almost hear Bobby's growl of approval.

Glancing around, he could guess that it was maybe five in the morning. The sun wasn't out yet but the there was a distinct dimness around him that made it really hard for him to see. He didn't dare try to make a light for fear of what was left of the Careers that would most definitely take him and Jo out. At the moment, they really had an advantage, especially with the toll of exhaustion that was heaping on his shoulders. He inwardly wondered if he could move another step.

That was when the first bolt of lightening struck down.

"What the-?!" Dean leapt to his feet, strength he didn't know he had-or maybe adrenaline-overtaking him.

The lightening had struck down less than five yards away from him and the cove, hitting a tree and lighting it ablaze.

"Crap. Jo!"

"Dean!" Her voice sounded very far away.

Another bolt touched down right at the mouth of the cove, sending it alight with fire.

"Damn it, Jo!" He shot to the opening of the cove, trying to peer through the hazy fumes. "Jo! Jo, are you all right?!"

He could hear her coughing. "I'm fine!"

"Jo!"

"Dean, just get out of here! I'm okay. I'll get out!"

"Are you crazy?!" he snarled as he yanked out his knife, hacking away at the side of the brush.

"Dean, get out of here!" Jo screamed.

"No! I am not leaving you in there!" he yelled back. And with one final push, the side of the brush fell through. "Come on!" Dean reached an arm in and Jo latched on, both of them falling through the large hole and onto the forest floor.

More lightening flashed in the air as they began to run. Dean could feel his grip on Jo's fingers slipping and tried desperately to hold on but it was becoming no use.

Another bolt hit ground, finally causing them to break apart. Smoke filled the air and Dean started to hack violently. He yanked the top of his shirt up over his nose and mouth and looked around wildly for the blonde that had disappeared.

_"__JO!"_ he shouted, his head dipping down as the next lightening bolt touched the ground.

But Jo was gone.

The next shock of electricity hit less than a foot away from him. The fire singed the side of his jacket, causing more smoke to enter his lungs. Dean quickly pawed it out but could feel the burning sensation in his skin. He began to move once again, dodging another surge of power as it touched down to his left.

He knew exactly what the Gamemakers were doing. Any tribute would have to be a total idiot to not know. They were trying to rub him out and most likely had already gotten Jo.

A jolt of pain hit his heart at the thought of her.

"Damn it!" he cursed aloud and he took a wild yield to his right, turning to look behind him for any sign of the blonde.

There hadn't been a cannon yet but then again, the shocks of the electricity was so loud that he could have missed it. He hoped with everything that he had that he was wrong though.

He couldn't stand losing her.

And he couldn't stand what District 12 would do if he let that girl die.

His amulet bounced against his chest as he ran, the heat contracting the metal and burning his skin. He yanked it from under his shirt and let it rest on the sweaty cotton but soon put it back as he needed the cotton to cover his nose and mouth once again.

Just run. You need to run.

Without being able to help it, images of Jo's battered and broken body crossed his mind. That beautiful-wait a minute-nice looking brown eyed girl dead because of him and he just couldn't stand it.

Please be alive. Please.

He also knew that Jo would kill him if he risked his life for her like that. But he remembered everything that she had done for him during these Games and that they were supposed to be star-crossed lovers.

God, he hated that saying.

_CRACK! _

More electricity surged and it snapped a nearby pine in two, causing the tree to come crashing down towards his head. Dean let out a shout of surprise and fear but managed to dodge out of the way in time.

Take that, Azazel.

With another wide loop, Dean moved back. He called out for Jo as loud as he could. Animals were moving the opposite way that he was going and it was then he was forced to turn around. That electricity and that fire was heading straight for him and he was running right into it.

_Keep moving! _

Ben's still body flashed in front of his eyes. Gordon's crumpled body with his arrow lodged in his neck.

A final shot of power hit right behind him. He could feel the heat rising up his back and almost sizzling his hair.

The burning cove. Jo trapped inside.

And then the electricity was receding. It was falling back and fading away.

The air was so still.

Dean prayed with everything that he had that his father had pried Sam away from the television. He couldn't stand it if Sam had seen what had just happened. But of course, Sam always got his way and had probably seen every second.

Furiously weaving his head around, Dean knew then that there was only one reason why the Gamemakers had sent the electricity away.

Another tribute was near.

Exhaustion finally overtook him and he let himself collapse on a fallen log, knowing that he had to get to water and figure out a way of shelter if somehow he could get around that tribute. But he was too exhausted. Too...

A scream met his ears. Female.

Dean leapt to his feet and ran towards that scream. He could only pray that this wasn't a trap but he wasn't taking any chances.

The scene that met his eyes as he crashed into the clearing almost made him want to throw up.

The remaining tributes from District 2 were there. Along with the survivor from District 11, Rachel. Ben had spoken of her several times and had always had high regards for her. Dean felt a strange pull when he saw Rachel, almost like he needed her.

Ruby and Brady had Rachel cornered right up against a large tree. Ruby had a long knife in her hand, thin and extremely sharp. He could tell just by the way the early morning sun glinted off it's blade. She was slowly running the knife down Rachel's jaw line, bringing out a long and very bright strip of blood.

Fury raged his belly and he quickly notched an arrow. He pointed it right at Ruby's hand and let it fly.

The arrow pierced right through, coming out the other side. Ruby let out a bellow of rage and let her knife drop, hurriedly trying to yank the arrow out. Rachel then took that opportunity to break free of Brady's grip, whirling around and clocking him in the jaw. Brady went down like a ton of bricks, smacking his head on a low rock. Rachel then threw her foot into his ribs, practically tossing him into the bushes.

"Go!" Dean found himself shouting. "Just go!"

Why the hell was he-?

Rachel didn't hesitate to obey. She immediately disappeared into the woods, her long blond hair flying behind her.

Dean immediately notched an arrow, prepared to kill.

But then a knife flew right by his right ear, catching a chunk of skin along the way. Crying out in pain, Dean dropped his bow and clutched at his ear, feeling the blood starting to trickle down the side of his face and off of his chin.

Another knife whizzed past. Dean ducked it in time and it lodged itself into the tree right behind his head. He yanked it out and took off like a bullet.

He could hear Brady and Ruby's footsteps thundering after him. They had decided to abandon Rachel and go for him.

Well, let them come.

Dean continued to run, notching another arrow into the string of his bow as he moved. He turned slightly and let the arrow fly, straight and narrow, right on the edge.

A cry of alarm and pain was his answer.

"Brady!"

Ruby wasn't about to leave Brady behind. He remembered sorely how they had hardly left each other's sides during training. It had sickened him slightly.

He listened sorely for the sound of the cannon as he continued to run. He had one target, one aim now.

But as he went, there was none. Brady was still alive.

Well, it must have been quite a show for the people of the Capitol. First the electrical bullets that had rained down on him, separating him from Jo and making him head right to Brady and Ruby. And then, he saved Rachel. Rachel, who he should have let the Careers kill. He had saved her.

For Ben.

* * *

Finally, Dean allowed himself to come to a rest. He had gotten a good distance away from the remaining Careers but he wasn't sure about Foxfire or Rachel. Rachel had disappeared into a part of the arena that he had never been too and he doubted she was going to come looking for him at that moment. Foxfire was hiding someplace, most likely nearby and under cover in a little den just like theirs had been.

Dean clambered around in his pack, pulling out the last of his water and took a few slow sips. He had about half of a bottle left and no idea where the hell he was. The nearest source of water was definitely the lake and that's where Brady and Ruby would most likely head back. He wasn't about to go back there.

He remembered Jo's little spring but he didn't even bother to try and find it. He knew that the Gamemakers would have drained it dry, just to get him to head for the lake once again.

He prayed that rain could come down on him at that moment, soaking him and soothing his burns and bruises. Cooling rain that could wash away everything, absolutely everything that had just happened.

* * *

Night came and Dean found himself up a tree once again.

He was fully belted in and feeling the full extent of his injuries. He was sore from top to bottom and his burns were festering already. The last thing that he needed was an infection.

"Come on, Bobby," he whispered. "I need something here." He checked his throbbing arm and winced. Grabbing the knife that Ruby had given him, he cut a small slit in the sleeve of his jacket, giving the open and cool air a chance to hit the burn.

Like clockwork, a small silver parachute fluttered in front of his eyes, making him jump back slightly in alarm.

His first sponsor!

Damn, took long enough.

Dean made a grab for it and pulled the small canister towards him. He undid the top and found a miniscule bottle of anti-septic soothing cream for burns, bites, and cuts.

"Thank you," he whispered into the air.

The anthem immediately began to play after those words left his mouth. Dean applied a thin coat of the cream onto his arm and to the tear in his ear from Ruby's knife. He then pocketed it, somehow knowing that he would need it later.

Dean looked up into the sky. Were they going to show Jo's picture?

But instead of seeing any headshots of dead tributes, he heard the voice of Gabriel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there have not been any deaths today. And with that, we are announcing something that may peak your interest."

Announcing what? What the hell could peak these freaks' interest?

"A rule change is now in effect. If the final two tributes alive are from the same district, those two tributes will be proclaimed the victors of the Seventy Fourth Annual Hunger Games. Now, sleep peacefully and may the odds ever be in your favor."

The anthem began to play again, drowning out the pounding in Dean's head.

Two victors.

Jo was alive.

Two victors.

Thank God, Jo was alive.

Two victors.

"Jo!"

* * *

**Dun-duh-dun-dun!**

**I had to separate Dean and Jo for a little while. I just had to. **

**Okay, so I know that this is similar to the actual book but I had to keep this part in. It is a very important part of the story with the rule change being announced and all of you wonderful people already knew that both Jo and Dean were going to win from the beginning. But I did try to keep the bad-ass Dean/Katniss moments as different from the book as I could. **

**I have decided that I am going to write a sequel to this story once I bring it to an end. I am not exactly sure what I am going to call it yet but I am warning you now, there will be a bit of a time jump. That will be explained later as well but the ages of Dean, Jo, Sam, and Lisa will be slightly older. Sam and Dean will be about the same ages that they were in Season 1, maybe two or three years younger. Bear with me, you wonderful people, and I think that you will be pleasantly surprised. :D Also, I am going to be bringing more characters that haven't been mentioned yet, like Rufus, Ash, Zachariah, Jodie, etc. **

**Oh, and quick question. I am currently batting around a story idea set in Season 5 where Michael does take possession of Dean and Sam has to try to get Dean back. Anyone like? Hmm?**

**I just wanted to extend a thank you to you wonderful people. Thank you so much for being so invested in this story and leaving such amazing reviews. I love all of you. **

**Reviews are greatly appreciated. :P**


	12. Jo

_**Jo**_

* * *

**a/n: Forgive me for being goopy but can you listen to the song "I Run to You" by Lady Antebellum while you read? Kind of fits here with the Dean/Jo lovin' in this chapter. Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

As soon as the word spilled into the air, Dean clamped a hand over his mouth.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

So freaking stupid!

Jo was alive and had to be nearby. She just had to be. He couldn't allow himself to think that she could be on the brink of death.

But then again, the Gamemakers wouldn't do that if she was close to dying.

There was no reason to start looking tonight. He knew it would be best to try to get a little bit of rest and to start looking for her come morning light.

* * *

He didn't dare sleep. He let his body relax and fall into a doze but he wouldn't let himself go under.

Morning light took forever to get there. And then when the first notes of the anthem greeted him, Dean was ready to fly out of that tree. Of course, he wasn't that stupid this time.

He ignored the anthem, glancing around into the rising light. The anthem ended and then everything became eerily still. Almost too still.

And then he moved.

He found himself moving back to their little den, wondering if just maybe she could be nearby. It seemed too absurd to even consider.

But maybe...

* * *

The sound of trickling water alerted him.

Dean slowly shuffled through the tall brush, taking careful delicate steps that he had learned how to take when he became a hunter. If this was Sam, his big feet would be stomping through and chasing away every animal around.

He found the tiny stream and breathed a huge sigh of relief. A water source, thank you Lord or Gamemakers or whatever!

He squatted down beside the stream, dipping a hand into it. The water was crystal clear and oh, so cool and nice. He scooped more into his joined hands, running it over his face and neck. What water he pulled away and onto his hands was dirty and disgusting, causing his own stomach to roll slightly. He had had a few more things on his mind than his own bodily hygiene since the Games had started.

And then he heard the quivering moan and almost dropped his bow.

"Jo?"

His eyes peeled around in the darkness, looking closely for any sign of movement or anything at all.

"...Dean..."

Her voice was so tiny that he almost missed it.

"Jo? Where are you?"

"Over here."

"Where?"

"Here."

"Where?" He was starting to feel majorly stupid.

"Take a good hard look, princess."

There was some of that Jo fire that he was missing.

He looked around again, turning a 360 degree circle. He could see more pine trees, the brush filled stream, a large boulder-like thingy and-wait a minute! The large boulder like thingy was moving.

He leapt across the stream and started yanking weeds and brush off of the boulder-like thingy and was soon greeted with an extremely muddy and curled up into a tiny little ball Jo.

"Oh, my God. Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right?" she asked him, looking like she had regained a little bit of strength to her voice.

"Come on, let me look at you."

His hands gently rolled her onto her back. Her normally golden blond hair was now a muddy brown, matted and filled with dirt and whatever else little creatures had decided to take home in it. He was sure his own hair was the same way but hadn't bothered to pay much attention.

Her jacket was more torn than the last time he had seen her. And there was a huge gaping hole in one section around her midsection. When his hand brushed against her side, she cried out.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Jo, I need to unzip your jacket and see what's going on, okay?"

She weakly nodded. "Yeah."

As he gently worked the zipper down, his fingers brushed against the skin on her collarbone. "So, what happened after we got separated?"

"Brady and Ruby found me," she whispered, biting her lips. "I was able to get Ruby off of me but Brady was just too big and too strong."

Just as those words left her mouth, that was Dean got the rest of the jacket unzipped. Her dark blue shirt underneath was stained with a violet red substance, from the hemline and almost to the collar.

"Oh, Jo..."

"And Brady got me there," Jo summed up.

"How the hell did you get away?" he asked, digging around his bag and pulling out what was left of his water. He gently lifted up Jo's head and she took what was left in a few delicate sips.

"It's still a fuzzy blur," she murmured. "But I found this in my boot." And with that, she pulled a tiny knife out of her pocket.

Dean stared at the knife for a second, unable to really register what he was seeing.

It was a paring knife, one that was the exact replica of the knife that Bobby had thrown at his shoulder during their first official meeting.

"Does this look familiar to you or is it just me?" Jo asked, yanking him out of his thoughts.

Dean chuckled lowly. "Yeah, just a little."

Jo winced slightly, leaning her head back onto a rock. Dean walked over to the stream and filled his water bottle with the clear and cold substance. He brought it back over to Jo, and looked into her eyes. Their eyes locked and she nodded, knowing what he needed to do and giving him permission.

He then slowly began to trickle the water over her shirt, starting to cleanse away the blood and the mud. He added gentle pressure with his fingers, helping the blood ease away. After about ten minutes of the same motions, repeating them over and over, he finally worked down to the deep wound in her abdomen.

It had started to heal over a bit but he could see infection already starting to set in. Sighing, he worked away the puss and blood, seeing the clearance of the wound itself.

"What's the damage, doc?" Jo picked her up and peered at him.

"It's all right. It's not that deep," he lied easily.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Dean, I can read you like a book."

He scoffed but then remembered the whole 'lovers' thing. He realized then, while examining Jo's wound, he didn't have what could help her. The only way he was going to get that medication is if he worked the star-crossed lovers hoax, even if he didn't buy into it at all.

"Can you walk at all?" he asked quietly.

"I can try," Jo murmured.

"All right. Let me get something on this and let's get you up. We've got to get under some cover," he answered.

Dean then dug around in his bag and found some cotton deep down on the bottom. He pressed it gently against the pussy folds of skin, securing it loosely with a bit of cord that he had used to belt himself into trees.

"How's that feel?" he asked.

"It feels all right," Jo said. He could see her immediately bite her lip and knew that it mustn't feel that good.

"Okay, let's get you up."

He leaned down and gently slipped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her up into a sitting position. He quickly placed a kiss on top her head as she cried out.

"It's okay," he whispered lamely. Without further adieu, he quickly scooped her up into his arms, thanking heavens that she was tiny.

"Dean, you don't have to carry me!" protested Jo.

"Don't be stupid, Harvelle," he shot back, causing her to smirk.

Jo just shook her head and then leaned forward, planting a peck on his cheek.

* * *

They walked for nearly thirty minutes before Jo spotted something.

"What's that?" she pointed an exhausted arm.

Dean saw it too. He peered closely, keeping Jo tightly secured in his arms. "Looks like a little underground cove."

Jo started to chuckle. "Must be quite a few here in this arena."

Dean just rolled his eyes, stepping carefully closer to the hole. "Looks about ten feet deep but there is a little hill you can slide down. I can't—"

"I know," Jo answered quickly. She shifted and he gently set her down onto her feet. She wobbled dangerously and latched onto Dean's arm. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. Not your fault," he murmured. He helped her steady and then finally released himself from her grip.

Taking a deep breath, he started to slide down the hill. The tip of his boot caught on a vine and he then felt himself flying head first into the cove.

"Dean!"

He twisted his body and managed to grab onto the same vine that had caused him to fall. He latched onto it with all the strength that he had and started to shimmy the rest of the way down.

His boot clad feet landed with a soft thud on the mushy bottom.

"Dean, are you okay?!" Jo shouted through the mouth of the cove.

"I'm fine!" He called back. His eyes took in his surroundings once they adjusted to the darkness. There was some mossy growth almost all over the cove floor, soft to the touch. Of course, there was some cracks in the top and if it rained, they would probably be drowned. But it had a good cover over their heads and they would be out of eyesight.

He slowly worked his way back up the vine, finding Jo at the top.

"Are you all right?" she asked again. Her face was starting to turn ashen and she was breathing heavily.

"I'm fine," he reassured her, gently stroking his palm across her cheek. "But you don't look so good. Come on, let's get you down there and you can get a little rest."

She didn't even try to argue as Dean wrapped his arms around her, carefully guiding her down the vine and into the soft downy moss bed. He laid her down on her back and carefully zipped her jacket up around her more securely. He stripped off his own and balled it up, tucking it underneath her head and neck. He then pulled his sleeping bag out of his pack, carefully slipping up around her legs.

Jo was near the sweet oblivion and he wasn't going to stop her. He managed to coax a little bit more water into her and then let her slip into unconsciousness.

He gently ran the palm of his hand over her forehead and realized that she was burning up.

"Crap," he moaned.

He then leaned down, finding himself staring at her full lips. Despite looking like hell at that very moment, she was a beautiful young woman.

He remembered the night of the interviews. She had been dressed in a frame hugging brown wrap around dress and had loads of jewelry on. He had inwardly wondered why the hell Becky had put her in all of the bling but she was still quite lovely.

It had all seemed so long ago.

Sighing, Dean began to set up his own little bed of moss, right near her. He angled himself so he could be looking right out the mouth of the cove.

Jo's breathing was getting slightly irregular. Dean's ears immediately picked up on how out of wack her breathing was and her slight shivers and shakes. He scooted closer to her, gently wrapping an arm around her front and pulling her close so her head was resting on his chest.

"Sleep," he found himself murmuring. "Please, just sleep."

No nightmares.

* * *

The blazing heat from Jo's body pulled him under.

Dean slept unfitfully for what seemed like only minutes but it had turned out to be almost three hours.

Jo was still out when he roused himself. He sat up slowly, rubbing his dirty knuckles into his eyes. Sweat coated his body from Jo's blistering fever, causing his clothes to stick to his skin.

"Crap," he murmured again. He felt Jo's forehead and almost had to pull his hand away. She was fire-hot and it was still rising. "Jo? Jo, honey, you need to wake up. Jo?"

She wouldn't budge.

Dean sighed and found himself looking at her lips once more. She really did have the fullest lips he had ever seen.

His fingertip traced the outline of her mouth before he leaned down, gently pressing his own mouth against hers.

Her eyelids began to flutter and soon he was greeted with those coffee orbs that he had come to count on.

And maybe something else too.

"Hey..."

Dean realized then that he was smiling like an idiot. "Don't scare me like that again, okay? Just don't."

She smiled too, snuggling closer to his chest. "I'll try not too."

He pressed his lips to her temple, brushing her messy and matty curls back from her forehead. "Jeez..."

He couldn't ignore the relief that he felt. She was alive and she was fighting back.

Thank you God...

* * *

**Okay, it was about time I got an update up! **

**So, yeah, this chapter was born out of the song "Run To You" by Lady Antebellum. If you didn't listen to the song while you read the chapter, get your butt back to the beginning and do that! **

**We are coming to a close soon. Probably five more chapters left. Next chapter will deal with the Feast and Dean's run-in with a couple of tributes. **

**Reviews are so loved. And thank you all so much for being so invested in this story. **


	13. Feast

_**Feast**_

* * *

**a/n: The end of this chapter is a very strong T. **

* * *

The small parachute touched down a few hours into the early morning. Dean could hear the tinkling of the tiny mechinism in the light wind and knew that Bobby had finally sent them something.

He gently detangled himself from Jo and crawled out the mouth of the den, finding the silver device plugged against a log. He pulled it loose and allowed himself to slide down the hill and into the den again.

"What's going on?" Jo's voice was groggy and so weak. Dean's stomach turned over in slight fear.

"Bobby finally sent us something," he whispered, leaning over and gently brushed the back of his hand across her forehead. He could fry an egg on her head. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she murmured, casting him a small smile. Liar. "What did Bobby send? Medicine?"

He couldn't ignore the slight hope in her voice. He slowly opened the egg like device and found a small canister that was warm to the touch. Taped to the side was a tiny piece of paper to which he quickly palmed. Unscrewing the lid, he found that it was full of a sweet smelling broth that had chunks of real chicken and spices.

"Chicken soup," he whispered. "Here," he scooped up the tiny spoon and ladled a little bit of the broth into it.

"Dean, my hands aren't broken," Jo complained as Dean almost spooned the soup into her mouth.

"Yeah, but you can barely move. Just let me baby you for a while," he chuckled. Jo rolled her eyes but obediently let Dean feed her the soup.

"Dean, you need to eat some too," she finally protested when she noticed that the soup was nearly gone. "You look dead on your feet."

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

"That makes two of us, baby."

What the hell did he just call her?

Jo rolled her eyes. "Just finish it. I'm not eating any more."

The last dregs of the soup did look quite tantalizing. And Jo's lips were clamped shut and he couldn't force her to eat the rest.

"All right, all right," he quickly gave in, carefully taking in the rest of the soup for himself, slow and even swallows. He knew if he gobbled it all down, it would be coming right back up.

"Feel better?" Jo watched him with one eyebrow raised and the tiniest of quirky smiles on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Dean murmured.

Jo rolled her eyes as she shifted in the uncomfortable bed that Dean had situated for her, trying to find that little den like comfort that she had had before. Dean moved down beside her, gently looping his arms around her small frame. She snuggled down into his chest, feeling the effects of that warm broth starting to take over and drag her into the sweet oblivion away from pain and away from the Hunger Games. Dean was quite eager to follow her into that oblivion.

Her breathing became more even and pronounced. Dean let out a small sigh, pressing his lips to her temple. The piece of paper in his palm became crumpled up in his fisted fingers. He didn't even need to look at it, already knowing what Bobby was snarling through the mail.

* * *

Dean was awoken less than an hour later. At first, he wasn't sure what exactly had woken him up. All he knew is that he was sweating terribly.

He realized at that moment that Jo's fever had risen even more. Her face was pale and her forehead and cheeks burned to the touch. He was no doctor but her temperature must be at least 106. He checked her wound and it was horribly inflamed. It was closed over with no bleeding but he could recognize infection anywhere.

"Damn it, Jo," he whispered, getting to his feet and grabbing a spare cloth from his pack. He soaked it in water from his bottle and placed it on her forehead. But of course, it was dry within minutes. "Damn it!"

She was fading and fading fast. What the hell was he supposed to do? There was nothing, absolutely nothing for him to use to help her.

"Bobby, damn it! Send some medicine!" He snarled upward to where he was sure a camera was hidden.

The parachute didn't appear.

But a voice did.

"Hello there, our remaining tributes!" came the slimy voice of Gabriel, startling him almost to his feet. His fingers reached for his bow. "At the twelve o'clock hour, we will have our Feast!"

The Feast.

"There will be one parcel for each District. Everything will be set up at the Cornucopia. And I will add this, it will be something that you desperately need."

Something that you desperately need.

The medicine.

"Good luck! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor."

The world became so still for the minutes following that.

Dean glanced down at Jo's unconscious form. He had to go now or she was going to die.

* * *

The walk was pretty short. He moved quickly, his bow at the ready. Within the hour, he could see the Cornucopia through the trees, standing there, glistening and proud.

He crouched behind a heap of brush, the Cornucopia right in his line of vision. The table was set up at the mouth of the horn, four packs set ready with the district numbers embossed on the burlap covers. District 12's was the smallest, a tiny little yellow one with the number '12' on the thin side.

He was sure Brady and Ruby were nearby, along with Rachel and Foxfire. Any of them could strike at any minute.

And strike they did.

The tall, built, lucious blonde from District 11 was at the table in seconds, shooting out from a spot behind him that he didn't even notice.

She grabbed onto the large pack for District 11 and took off behind the Cornucopia and into a place of the arena that he had never ventured into. She was gone in seconds, much faster than anybody that he had ever seen before.

Well, maybe Ben.

He didn't even have a chance to move before another shot out in front of him. This time, Foxfire darted out from inside of the Cornucopia of all places. She snatched up her pack and was gone in a fiery haired blur.

Damn it, he should have seen that coming! Foxfire had kept herself alive for so long in these Games, living on stuff that could barely keep her going but it was keeping her alive. He should have known that she would be able to pull off something like this.

It was his turn. He had to get to that stupid pack. He had to get it now.

So he ran, throwing his bow back over his shoulder. He ran like hell towards the table.

He was almost there. His hand was reaching out for the one marked with the large '12'. His fingers were brushing against the burlap.

And then there were hands grabbing onto his jacket, pulling him down to the ground, flat on his back.

"What the-?!" He grunted, trying to throw the weight off of him before he realized who exactly had gotten him.

"Nice try, Winchester," snarled Ruby, her face mere inches from his.

The tiny Career had him pinned to the ground in a vicelike grip. He tried whatever he could to throw her off. It didn't even matter that he was twice her size, she had him pinned into the ground so hard that he could feel the bruises immediately beginning to form on his back and shoulders.

"Did you think that it would be that easy?" she smirked. "You would just be able to get ahold of that little parcel and escape? Who's it for? The medicine for your little whore?"

Dean clamped his teeth together, sure of what words would come spewing out if he even dared to try and say anything. He wouldn't give this little brat the satisfaction.

"Well, let me tell you this. Brady said I could finish you off as long as I made it a good show for our wonderful viewers back home. What do you think of that?"

He continued to glare, never saying a word. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Ruby then opened her jacket, showing an impressive array of knives in her the inner folds of the fabric. She pulled one out, holding it up to the sunlight and in the perfect view of whatever cameras were around them.

Dean stared at the knife she chose. It had a curved blade that had a jagged edge to it. Once it pierced his skin, it would do quite a bit of damage. She lowered the knife, running it's edge along the base of his throat. He could feel the warm beads of blood beginning to form.

"Oh, come on, Deany-Poo. You will have to say something for the audience. Come on, they remember how you tried to save that midget. What was his name-Ben?"

A shot of anger ran through him at the mention of Ben's name. How dare she even utter his name, let alone use it in such a dishonorable way!

"We killed him, you know. Of course you do. You were there. And we enjoyed it."

This was it. She was going to kill him in the same way that they had killed Ben. He silently thanked whatever higher power there was that at least Ben didn't die alone.

"It was quite nice seeing the life drain out of that little boy. And seeing you cry about it. Nice to see the tiger doesn't roar anymore-"

Suddenly, her weight was lifted off of him. Just like that.

For a split second, he wondered if he had done something and wasn't even aware of it. Could Jo had somehow come to his rescue?

And then he saw it.

Or actually, _her_.

Rachel had returned, grabbing Ruby and had her now pinned against the wall of the Cornucopia.

"Did you do it?! You killed that little boy?!"

Dean stared, absolutely shocked. He couldn't remember ever hearing Rachel speak above a whisper, let alone scream at the top of her lungs.

Ruby was flattened up against the wall, absolutely petrified. "No! No, we didn't do it! No!"

"You said his name!" Rachel was near sobs. "You said his name! You said that you did it!"

"No! Brady! Brady, help!"

And then it happened so fast. Rachel held up exactly the same knife that Ruby had just been torturing him with, whirled Ruby around by the hair and slit her throat.

It wasn't like what he had seen on past Hunger Games broadcasts where the tribute fell down and died if they had their throat slit by another tribute. This was grisly. Grisly enough where Dean Winchester, the guy had been a hunter all of his life had to look away.

Seconds later, the cannon went off. He finally got the nerve to open his eyes and to look up at his savior. Or was she going to be the one that ended him?

Rachel was standing over Ruby's slumped body, the knife still in her hand. She let it go with a squeak and threw it to the ground beside Ruby. She turned slowly, her eyes finally meeting Dean's. He didn't think he had ever seen this girl look so young before, despite having just killed somebody. After all the offers from the Careers to join up with them and her refusals, during all of this time in the arena, she looked stronger than when they had actually been dropped into the Games.

"What happened?" she asked. "To Ben?"

"He, uh..." He hadn't allowed himself to really think about it since it had happened. "He was stabbed. By the District 1 boy, Gordon."

"But you got him? You killed One?"

"Yes. I shot him with an arrow."

"And Ben?"

"I tried to save him, Rachel," he murmured, feeling hot tears springing to his eyes. "But it was too deep, the wound. And he died so quickly. I held him in my arms while he went and then covered him with ferns and flowers."

"Ferns and flowers?" Rachel repeated. "Ferns...he would have liked that. He was young but liked the less frilly things."

More tears slid down his face and he reached up, wiping them away. "Make it quick, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head, taking a deep and shaky breath. "I'm not going to kill you. Not now. And that is because of Ben. Just this time, all right? Get your parcel and get back to your girl. Save her life and try to win this thing if I can't."

And with that, she reached over, snatching up the parcel for District 2 while still keeping a firm grip on her own; and took off for that same area of the arena he had never ventured into.

Dean sat there for nearly a minute before he heard another voice. This voice was filled with pain and it was the one that got him to his feet.

"Ruby! Oh, no, Ruby!"

Dean laid a hand against his neck, trying to staunch the bleeding that was starting to become thicker. He grabbed his parcel and threw himself back into the woods.

He continued to run, the small pack bouncing on his arm. His free hand became slick with blood as more poured down his neck. His vision was blurred with sweat and tears and he really didn't have any idea where the hell he was going.

Just as the little den came into view, that's when the cannon went off.

"_NO!" _

Dean jumped into the hole, landing on his hands and knees. Jo was laying exactly where he had left her, deathly pale and not breathing.

He pulled a thin box out of the burlap and yanked it open. There was one long hypodermic needle inside. He shoved it into Jo's arm and pushed down the plunger. He waited for any sign of life, feeling the fogginess starting to take him over.

"You're not dead. No, you're not dead. Please, Jo," His hands were touching her all over, her face, her cheeks, her neck. A sob cracked from his throat. "Please, baby, please."

No response. Nothing.

"_JO!" _

Then the fog took over. And Dean let it. The blackness felt pretty damn good right about now. He really didn't give a damn if he lived or died.

* * *

**Dun-duh-dundun! **

**Uh oh. What happened to Jo? Is she alive? **

**Rachel the angel versus Ruby the demon. I have been waiting to do this chapter for a while. I have always liked Rachel on the show when she showed up briefly in season 6 and thought she was a pretty kick-ass little angel. I was sorry to see Cas kill her. But I thought she worked pretty darn well for Thresh and I could definitely see her kicking little Ruby from season 4's ass. Of course, they are just teenagers in here, not angels and demons. :)**

**I am so sorry that I have taken so long to get this chapter up. I went back to school a couple of weeks ago and I have been so busy. **

**Anyway, reviews are oodles of loved. And special thanks to all of my reviewers who have been there for me from Day One. And there's a special surprise in it. The one who gets me up to 65 reviews will get a plate of virtual cookies and also a special oneshot of their choosing once this part is done. :)**

**Thank you all so much! I love each and every one of you and thank you so much for all the support. Have a fantastic week and be safe. **

**Abbyli**


	14. Judgment

_**Judgment **_

* * *

Gentle hands roused him from the blackness. Gentle hands on his face, forehead, neck, silently asking him to rejoin the living.

"Dean? Dean, please wake up. Dean?"

The angel's voice sounded so strange. Almost like she was crying.

No, no. Angels shouldn't weep.

"Dean, wake up!"

Something cold was laying against his heart, almost piercing his skin due to the hands that were still roaming his chest, looking for something. A heartbeat, maybe?

He could feel his eyelids starting to flutter. Her gray face slowly came into focus.

She was alive. Jo was alive.

_Alive. _

He sat up way too fast as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her face, hands, and neck.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, feeling tears of relief starting to burn his eyes. "I don't understand. The cannon-?!"

Jo gently tried to calm him, her soft hands dancing over his cheeks and neck. "I'm fine, Dean. You scared the hell out of me. I woke up and found you in an alarming pool of blood and a parachute with some sort of medicine that fixed up your neck."

His hand darts to his throat. He can feel the puckered pink line there, his finger tracing the healing skin. "Ruby got to me. She jumped me at the Feast and started to cut me up. And then Rachel came out and grabbed her, killed her with her own knife."

"Wait a minute, Rachel?" Jo interrupted. "Rachel from District 11? Thank God she didn't get you too."

"She let me go," Dean answered quietly. "Ruby was trashing Ben and that's what-" His voice broke. "I guess that's what set her off. And she turned to me and asked me what I did for Ben. I told her and she let me go. She said that it was for Ben but just that one time."

Jo took a deep breath. "Dean-"

"What?"

"Rachel's dead."

* * *

The only way was that Brady had gotten her. That was the only way. Rachel could have easily overpowered Foxfire, he could tell that now after seeing what she had done to Ruby.

He didn't expect this to hit him so hard. Now there was just Brady and Foxfire to get rid of and he and Jo could go home. But if something happened to the two of them, he really had hoped that Rachel could win it. It would really do some good for her family and for Ben's.

Home.

The word was sounding nicer and nicer by the minute.

He could see his father...Lisa..._Sam. _He missed his little brother more than ever. It was hard to believe that it had been a month since he had seen him.

"Wait a minute-Dean, wasn't your birthday yesterday?"

Jo's voice startled him out of his thoughts. His birthday?

Oh, his _birthday. _

He was officially eighteen years old.

"Oh, my..."

Jo let out a sigh, her hand resting on his arm. "Happy birthday, Dean." And then her lips brushed against his temple. His eyes closed at her touch, leaning into her. As she finally pulled away, he could hear words that were like an angel's breath escape her. _"I'm sorry." _

* * *

It is really late when the parachute touches down. The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees, causing a slight chill in the air. It was nearing the end and the Gamemakers were obviously trying to draw the remaining tributes out.

Dean slowly crawls to the mouth of the cave, grabbing the parachute and untethering it from it's link. He opens the pack and lets out a shout.

"Finally!"

"What is it?" asks Jo. The pack falls at her feet and she pulls it open. It is filled to the brim with food. Warm rolls, packaged cooked steaks, tiny chickens filled with cream sauce, jellied candies, and even a tureen of rice and pork stew. "Oh, my goodness..."

Dean chuckles as he slides back down the slope and lands on his feet beside her. "Bobby finally came through. After living on wild mushrooms and roots for the last two days, I guess he got tired of watching us eat like birds."

Jo rolled her eyes as she slowly pulled satchels of food from the pack. "Let's eat this slowly and make it last. Just in case we wind up staying in here for a longer period of time."

It's quite difficult not to gobble the whole pack down at once. But with Jo slapping his hand away whenever he reaches for more, it's finally clear. Must make the food last.

"Seriously, girl. I am going to bruise if you do that one more time."

"Sorry."

And of course, remembering the 'star crossed lovers' bull, he leans over and plants a gentle kiss on her nose. He thinks he's done pretty well with everything that has happened so far in these Games. She blushed before raising her eyebrows in the perfect silent question. He answers it with a sly smile and a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"Just out of curiosity, are you ever going to tell me how you earned that nine in your private session?"

* * *

"We need to end this."

Jo's quiet voice pulled him out of a light doze. Dean sat up straighter and looked at her.

"You're thinking that too?"

* * *

They moved silently through the brush. Dean took down a groosling and a small squirrel as they walked. Jo took the time to skin them and clean them, telling him that she needed something to do with her hands. She did wander off on him once, looking for roots and berries.

"Jo, can you please stop doing that? You're scaring the hell out of me!"

"Sorry!"

* * *

The cannon went off early in the morning.

"What the-?"

"Dean!"

"Jo, I'm here!"

The bow fell to the ground as he caught Jo's tiny form in his arms, pulling her against him in a tight embrace. Tears were in her eyes and a sob was in her throat.

"I heard the cannon!" she nearly cried. "Are you all right?"

Dean hugged her back, gently running his hand over her shoulders. "I'm fine. It's okay."

She finally calmed down after another few minutes, unwrapping herself from around his body. "Who do you think it was?"

"We can only hope that it was Brady."

* * *

And of course, it wasn't.

Foxfire's emaciated body was hanging about twenty feet away, her mouth open and her neck bloated with a thin snare wrapped around it. Dean peered a little closer and recognized the snare as one that could catch large turkey and small deer. Foxfire's body was so small and slight that with one stumble, it could easily shoot around her body and wrap around her neck.

Dean remembered he and Lisa attempting that snare once or twice but never being able to catch anything. When he nearly got tangled up in one, they knew better than to try it again anytime soon.

The hovercraft touched down moments later, the large metallic claw snaking out and hooking itself around Foxfire's body. The cord snapped and fluttered behind her as she was lifted up and swallowed by the gaping hole of the hovercraft entrance.

The two stood for a moment, watching as the hovercraft disappeared into the sky. Dean then found himself looking at Jo.

He had never seen her look so cold in all of his life.

"Let's get moving," he finally whispered, gently touching her hand.

Jo shook herself out of it, looking back at him. "You're right."

* * *

It wasn't surprising to them when they stumbled into the clearing where the Cornucopia lay.

It was time to end this.

"I'll get some water," Jo whispered, taking the bottles and the iodine from his pack and slowly heading for the lake. '

He followed her, holding her hand as they slid down the mucky embankment. He filled the bottles with the icy water and she dropped the iodine into it, shaking it up and replacing the caps.

"Where is he?" she suddenly murmured, looking around them. "I can't stand this tension."

"I know what you mean," replied Dean. "It's driving me even more crazy than I already am."

Jo sighed before she turned, taking the muddy embankment at a run and getting to the top. She offered her hand to which he took, pulling him up behind her.

Brady could be anywhere. Anywhere at all in this arena. But they knew that he was close by, waiting for exactly the right moment.

* * *

The right moment came quite quickly.

Darkness was slowly starting to fall, even though it couldn't even have been noon.

"I think it's almost time for the kick-off," Dean murmured, pulling on Jo's hand. "Let's-"

That's when they see the first ball of light.

"What the hell is that?"

The light touched down less than five feet away from the couple and began to take shape.

"What the-?" Dean felt himself stutter before his jaw widened in shock.

The light had turned into Sam.

"Dean!"

He wasn't really sure who had called his name.

But this wasn't the twelve year old Sam he had left behind. This Sam was older, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. His hair was longer, his bangs were shaggier, and even though he was encircled by light, his eyes were still the puppy-dog hazel that he adored.

"Dean! That's not Sam!"

So it was Jo that was calling his name.

Mutt-Sam slowly started towards the two of them. As he got closer, Dean could make out smears of some dark brown substance on his coat and face. Looking even closer, Dean could also see that the substance was blood coming from four perfect holes in his front.

Dean was frozen. He couldn't move even though he didn't even bother to try. Jo was pulling on his arms, tryng desperately to get some sort of movement from him. Absolutely nothing could get him to move.

Mutt-Sam continued coming. His mouth opened and some blood dribbled down onto his front. His arm extended in a leering point.

"Sammy..."

"_DEAN!" _

And then Mutt-Sam was gone. Brady had ran right through him, rushing past them and heading straight for the Cornucopia.

"Dean, move!"

Jo had followed Brady, almost running up the side of the Cornucopia. Dean felt himself finally be able to move and he gave her a shove up the side. She turned and grabbed onto his arm. With their combined efforts, he was able to get to the top.

And then he was greeted with a hard slap across the face.

"What the hell was that?!" Jo snapped.

"It was Sam!" He snarled back, not even bothering to cradle his flaming cheek.

"No, it wasn't Sam. That was some sort of figment that the freaking Gamemakers made up to screw with your mind."

That was when it began to dawn on him. Dean took in a deep breath of cold air, finding her eyes in the mist.

"Wait a minute, it was a muttation?"

"Yes," Jo murmured. Her face was a breath's away from his, her eyes boring into his. "It was a mutt."

Calming breaths started to overcome him. Jo's hand rested against his chest, just ahove the amulet. Her touch soothed him.

Brady took his chance.

"_JO!" _

The bow flew from Dean's back to hands as Brady wrapped his arms around Jo's neck, pulling her throat back and exposing it to the right length. His large hands circled her jugular, his thumbs pressing right above the pulse point.

Dean had his arrow pointed right at Brady's forehead. Brady could see it.

He laughed. "Go ahead. Do it. Kill me, we both go down. Those other muttations rip us to bits and you win."

He couldn't help himself but glance down onto the ground. More balls of light were touching down, forming into figures. Some of them looked familiar, scarily familiar. Demonic. Lethal.

Jo shook her head as much as she could in Brady's death grip. "Do it, Dean."

"Don't be stupid," Dean whispered.

"Dean!"

"Jo, shut up!"

Brady laughed. Blood began to trickle from a cut on his cheek, soaking his hand and falling onto Jo's neck. It was a sickening sight.

And then he saw Jo's fingers twitch.

"I can do this," Brady muttered. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than them. "It's just one more kill."

"It's a dumb decision," Dean answered. "You were brainwashed from the moment you were born."

"It's what I need to do," Brady shot back.

Dean shook his head. "No. You don't need to do it. You can turn yourself against it. You can fight back." As the words left his mouth, Dean couldn't believe that he was trying to talk down the District 2 boy.

Brady's hands were starting to slacken. He had to really look hard to see it but he could. Jo's fingers curled around his meaty palms and her thumb twitched once again.

"You can stop this. You can help us stop this," Dean whispered. He allowed his bow to drop an inch.

Brady was staring at him, holding onto every word.

"This can all be over," he finished carefully. "You can make it be over."

It was the most absurd thing to even try. But he had to do it.

And it didn't work.

"I'm sorry," Brady whispered. His hands tightened once again around Jo's throat.

Then Jo screamed. "NOW!"

The arrow flew, landing right in the center of Brady's hand. He shouted in pain and Jo pulled his arm down, twisted it and laid a mighty kick into his abdomen. He fell back and slowly slid off the Cornucopia, one of the last of Dean's arrows landing right in the center of his skull.

The thud of Brady's body hitting the ground greeted their ears. And then the cannon sounded, alerting them to the end.

The hovercraft appeared, scooping up his body before the mutts could get to it. Once the hovercraft took flight once again, the mutts disappeared.

In the darkness, Dean found himself stumbling forward, his arms circling Jo in a granite like embrace. She sank against him, burying her face in his chest.

"It's over," she whispered, her voice thick with tears and pain. "It's over."

He didn't answer, his arms tightening around her.

* * *

They stood. They waited.

Nothing happened.

"Why don't they end it already?" he mumbled.

"Good afternoon, our remaining two tributes! There has been another rule change!"

Uh-oh.

"It turns out there can only be one victor of the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games. So our remaining two must have it out until the very end!" Gabriel's voice sounded full of glee. He had always liked epic endings, proven in the last twenty Games that he had been the announcer and Head Gamemaker in.

"Oh, my…" Jo's voice trailed off in fear.

"So, may the odds be _ever _in your favor."

And then the lights were dead, everything still as death.

Jo carefully detangled herself from Dean's slackening embrace. She stepped back, pushed her ratty hair off of her forehead. Her coffee eyes found his emerald ones in the dimness.

"Do it."

Dean stared. "Don't be an idiot."

Jo shook her head. "Listen to me, Dean. You have a family that needs you. They need you there with them. You have many friends that would suffer without you. I am the baker's daughter. I have always lived well to do in my life."

"And what about your parents, Jo?" Dean snapped. "You have a mom that loves you more than anything in this world. You shouldn't have ever been in this arena in the first place."

"But I am. And if you hadn't been there, Sam would have come with me. Don't you understand?!"

"What the hell am I supposed to understand?! What am I supposed to do?!"

"You let this be over. And you keep fighting. You fight all of it. You go back to your father and to Sam. You go back to your home in the Seam, and you keep fighting."

Dean moved then, carefully lowering his bow onto the metal roof. He keeps the quiver secure on his back. He stepped towards Jo, taking his hand in hers.

"Then let's keep fighting together," he whispered. And then he reaches a hand back, pulling out the last two arrows. "Because I am not leaving this arena without you."

With that, he handed her an arrow. The razor sharp edges of the head gleamed in the breaking sunlight, making quite the picture for the viewers back home. Jo watched his face for a moment before understanding exactly what he meant.

She took the arrow from him, placing it gently on the top of her upturned wrist. The edge laid against the blueness of the veins. He does the same.

The first beads of blood appear on his skin.

"STOP! STOP!"

They freeze.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the victors of the Seventy Fourth Annual Hunger Games! District Twelve's Dean Winchester and Joanna Harvelle!"

Dean drops his arrow, clamping his booted foot down on it and breaking it to bits. Jo throws hers over the edge of the Cornucopia, the wind picking it up into a gentle soaring sensation.

And then she falls.

Dean manages to catch her before she hits the roof, her face bluer than he had ever seen it, breath barely escaping her.

"Jo! _JO!"_

The hovercraft was there. It's large talon like claws were wrapping around the both of them, lifting them off of the roof. He didn't dare let go of her.

* * *

**One more chapter! One more! I am so excited!**

**When I post the final chapter of this, the first chapter of the sequel, 'carry on, my wayward son' will be up so you can just proceed right to it. I am not going to be horribly mean. **

**Anyway, hope you liked. Reviews are so appreciated and thank you all so much for being the best readers ever. **


	15. Home

_**Home**_

* * *

They were being lifted up. Up so high.

His arms never loosened from around her, holding her so tightly like she was going to wither away into a cloud of musty smoke.

The minute they were inside the hovercraft, a team of white clad medical personnel rushed forward, pulling her limp form from him.

The snarl that ripped from his throat was quite like the one's of large animals that he and Lisa hunted. It was the last effort that they would have, cornered and scared. All before his arrow would penetrate their neck. Fearful, frightened, and desperate. He didn't think he had ever made a sound like that before in his whole entire life.

More white coated people rushed at him. He felt large arms wrapping around his own arms, pulling him back. The icy sting of the needle was at his neck.

And then there was blackness at his doorstep, Jo's name on his lips, as it swallowed him up.

* * *

Beeping was the first thing he heard when the darkness lifted. Bright lights were above him, piercing into his corneas and making him wince.

He was strapped down to a table, his wrists and ankle bound tightly, along with one thick piece over his midsection. He was able to lift his head slightly, taking in his surroundings.

He was still in the hovercraft, the hospital wing. He was in a glass covered box like alcove, machines beeping around him. An oxygen mask was on his face, trying to sooth the difficulty of breathing that he didn't even realize he had had.

His vision focused even more. He was able to see through the blisteringly bright glass now.

He could see the team of white clad doctors surrounding a table. He could see the machines showing a very shaky heartbeat.

It took him a minute to realize who exactly they were working on.

The rhythmic beeping then stilled, going into one long drone. The doctors began working faster, trying to get her heart beating again.

Dean screamed her name, knowing that he was to be ignored but having it not matter anyway. He thrashed against his binding, trying so desperately to move even just one inch.

The shrill cry of asystole continued on. The doctors weren't having any success.

"_Wait a minute!" _

Dean froze, listening closely.

The shrillness ended then, going into that beautiful, musical beat once again.

"_She's back." _

And it went on and on like that. Over the next two hours, Dean counted three more times that Jo's heart stopped. It took that long to finally stabilize her.

They took her away after that, removing her still body from his view.

"No! _NO_!"

He was too busy screaming and hollering to even notice the nurse enter his room and send that pretty awesome drug into his IV. Moments later, his screams died in his throat and he found himself floating into the dreamlike state of nothingness once again.

* * *

Meg's hands were surprisingly gentle as they softly skimmed across his forehead.

For once, he was grateful to see her.

"Did Jo make it?" he whispered through the mask that was still on his face.

Meg nodded. "She's going to be just fine." That was when Dean finally allowed the much needed sleep to take him over.

* * *

"They're not happy with you."

"Because I didn't die? Well, they can go shove it where-"

"Tiger, I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you."

Dean grimaced but obeyed. "When can I see Jo?"

Bobby let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "They want your reunion to be live and real when you have your final interview with Balthazar tomorrow night."

"Is she okay?"

"She's doing beautifully." For the first time, Bobby allowed himself to smile. "It was touch and go there for a while but she pulled through. Both of you were hurt worse than you had thought."

He was right about that one. Dean learned once they had taken him off of the sedatives that he had actually had three cracked ribs and several deep infected lacerations on his abdomen. The infections were cleared up, the ribs taped tightly and healing quickly. He had also learned that Jo's spleen had ruptured when she had been stabbed by Brady. The medication that Dean had collected at the Feast had stalled the effects that a ruptured spleen would have. When they had fought with Brady on top of the Cornucopia, it had caused Jo to start bleeding internally. She had nearly bled to death by the time the doctors got a hold of her on the hovercraft.

"So, what do you think?" Dean found himself asking. When he saw Bobby's confused look, he explained. "You finally have a winner. And not just one."

Bobby sighed. "I just think that you two are the luckiest two ever. That stunt that you pulled with the arrows-"

"What can they do to me?"

Famous last words.

"Dean, you have no idea what they can do to you. They don't take these kind of things lightly."

* * *

The time had come.

The prep team had woken him up at the crack of dawn, hustling and bustling around in an avid attempt to make him look somewhat presentable for the big reunion that night.

He had received a full body polish, cleaning his skin of every scar and mark that he had received in the arena and all of the others that he had had gone in with from hunting and just surviving day to day in District 12. The crooked fingers were now straight, all the badly healed breaks from the arena and even before fixed to a perfection, despite the healing throb every time he bent those joints. His ribs were still taped up tightly but otherwise, he was in pretty good shape.

And then Castiel came in, a garment bag over his arm. He quietly ushered the prep team out on the pretext of some alone time with Dean. Once they had left, he pulled something from his pocket.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the tiny object hanging from the cord.

The amulet.

"Oh, my...they took that from me again when they picked us up-thank you, Castiel."

Castiel smiled. "You're welcome." He laid it down on the night table and picked up the garment bag from the bed. "Are you ready to see what you will be wearing?"

Dean chuckled softly. "As long as Jo and I don't match, you could dress me in a donkey suit and I wouldn't care."

This time, Castiel laughed. He unzipped the garment bag, revealing a white and black suit with brown edgings to it. It wasn't the same thick suit he had worn at his interview the first week, it was more soft and the fabric had a good feel to it. It reminded him slightly of the suit that Ben had worn.

Dean realized then at that moment that Castiel was trying to make him look innocent, not like the killer in the arena.

"It isn't good, is it?" he whispered, his eyes taking in the suit.

Castiel watched him for a second before he gave a very slight shake of the head. It was so tiny that Dean almost missed it.

"No."

* * *

"I will see you out there."

Dean was afraid. For the first time since he had learned Jo was going to be all right, he was afraid. He didn't want to go out there in front of Panem.

Bobby's words kept pounding over and over in his head. Something big was going to happen. It may not even be visible to the people in Panem but he would know and he would suffer greatly.

"Okay," he replied to Castiel. "Thank you."

Cas cast him a warm smile before slipping back through the door. Bobby was going to come and collect him for the interview. He still had a few minutes to prepare, to think about what was to come.

That was when he heard the light knock.

"Come in," he whispered, already knowing who was on the other side of the door.

Azazel slithered through the doorway, eyes as unforgiving as a cobra ready to strike. He was dressed in his best beige suit, his lips brought up in a deadly smirk.

"Well, well. How are you feeling tonight, Dean?" he asked, his eyes looking up and down at the young man.

Dean adjusted his jacket and turned slowly. "I'm fine, thank you."

"It's interesting, you know, how many victors find their ways to the very end of the Games. And just how many times it comes in the last five minutes of the actual Games. It determines who's really the stronger one in the situation."

The elder man lowered himself down onto the bed, his cane giving him the support that he needed. He then spotted the amulet still laying on the nightstand. His meaty fingers slipped through the cord and lifted it up, examining it.

"This is lovely," he murmured.

"Thank you. It's from my district," Dean replied.

"It's interesting how one tiny little thing, like this, can give someone strength and power to keep going."

"I wouldn't say it just fell with that, Azazel," Dean whispered.

Dean found himself standing back, trying to keep a good distance between himself and the president. Azazel then released his tight grip on the amulet and held it out to Dean. Dean took a delicate steo forward and took it from him, quickly replacing it around his neck where it belonged.

"I do have to say, you surprised me in there," muttered Azazel.

"I did?" he replied quietly.

"Yes, you did," said Azazel. "But-" He raised a meaty finger. "There should have been only one victor."

"So what do you suppose?" asked Dean. "That I had let Jo die when Brady stabbed her? I could be the happy little victor all by myself and you can carry on these torture games?"

"That would have been the better option, Dean," Azazel sighed.

"And what are you going to do about it? You can't kill me. You can't kill Jo. You would have an uprising on your hands if you caused harm to either one of us."

"I know that."

"So what then? What exactly can you do to me?"

Famous last words once again.

Azazel took a deep breath. "It will be interesting to see how you do at the Quarter Quell next year, mentoring your own brother."

It was like time stood still for a few seconds. Dean took in the information, the words of hell that his enemy had just said. That couldn't be right. That couldn't be real.

"You wouldn't."

He just smiled. "And who says I can't?"

Dean's stomach dropped. "Anything but that, Azazel," he whispered. "Anything but that."

"Anything?"

"Whatever it takes to get you to leave my brother and my family the hell alone."

The bastard had backed him into a corner. He had nothing, absolutely nothing left to use against this man. Azazel had him at his mercy.

"You come and work for me," the elder whispered lethally.

Dean stared.

"I work for you? Here in the Capitol?"

"Precisely."

"What do I do?"

"You will find that out soon enough."

"No!" Dean burst out, stepping forward. "No, you tell me right now, you son of a bitch. You tell me now or I am backing out of this whole deal."

"You do that and you will regret what happens."

"Excuse me?"

"You break our deal and I will make sure that you suffer. You will watch every one that you have ever loved perish right in front of you, slowly and painfully. Your father...your 'cousin'," the snake lifted up two fingers on each hand in the air quotes. The bastard knew about Lisa. "Your precious Jo and her family. I hear that you are really close with the whole family, not just the daughter."

"Is that what this is about? You didn't believe us as lovers?"

"It's part of the Game, Dean," said Azazel. "This is just another play in this magnificent Game."

This was the last thing that Dean had ever expected to happen. He had sworn to himself that he would never be a piece in this Games, not a move in the deadly game of chess. But he was. He was standing here, getting ready for the King to take him out, the lowly knight.

It was then when he gave in. There was no way he could win. Not now, not here.

Sam's face flashed in front of his eyes.

Lisa.

Ben.

Jo.

His mother taking her last choking breath before sucuumbing to the pneumonia that had nearly killed seven year old Sam in the process.

He couldn't let them become pieces. He couldn't let them just be moves in this wicked game of chess. Even his mother. The Capitol had stood by and watched her die, allowed them all to starve nearly to death.

"For how long?" he finally whispered.

"For how long what?" Azazel asked politely, his eyes flashing.

"How long do you want me to 'work' for you?!" Dean nearly shouted.

"Oh, I will leave that up to you," Azazel chuckled. "Believe me, Dean. I don't want to kill you. You are absolutely right. If I kill you or Jo, I will most definitely have an uprising on my hands and we can't have that now, can we? How would it look when the new victors of the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games suddenly drop dead? That would look kind of fishy, wouldn't it?"

Dean continued to glare, not saying anything.

"So I think that just ruining your name and making you look like a traitor that you are will be worth it. How about for as long as Sam's name remains in the Reaping, you will be here?"

"What do you mean?" Dean finally asked.

"For the next six years, I can guarantee that Sam's name will not come out of that glass ball."

That was the last thing that Dean expected. "Are you serious? You will fix it to protect Sam as long as I am here?"

The cobra nodded. "Absolutely. You have my word on that."

"And look where that got me," Dean murmured under his breath, sure that Azazel had heard him.

"You will remain here for six years, only seeing your mentor and your co-victor when you mentor future tributes. You will regard them with nothing but aloofness and coolness and you can work together to maybe make another victor from District 12. And when your time is up, I will alert your family and someone will come to collect you and take you home. Your family will be perfectly safe and they will have benefited from your win. But I think by then, the tiger will be just a little bit tired."

Slavery for him or the Hunger Games for Sam.

His decision to go into the Games for his brother, fighting until the very end...it would all have been for nothing.

Hands down, he knew what his choice would be. There was no question about it.

"Do we have a deal?"

He took a deep breath. He pressed his palms into his eyes in a vain effort to stem back the heat.

"Do I get to say goodbye?"

Azazel shook his head. "You will go to the interviews and the rally tonight. You will liven it up with your precious Jo and make it look the best night ever for the audience. You know where to take it from there."

Yes. Yes, he did know where to take it.

At that moment, Dean was highly regretting not letting Ruby's knife go right into his chest. He should have died that chilly afternoon.

"We have a deal."

He had thought the Hunger Games were over. He had thought he was going to be free. His family would benefit and he would just be able to go home.

But now, there were much worse games to play.

**END OF PART ONE**

* * *

**Dun-duh-dun-dun-DUN!**

**Bet you weren't expecting that, huh?**

**When I originally started writing these, I did have the intention to write Catching Fire and Mockingjay with people taking the places of all the roles. But I couldn't find anyone who could take the place of Finnick. He had to have been the perfect candidate for the placement and the only one I could really think of that would work perfectly was Dean himself. So instead of having Azazel/Snow threatening his family and making Dean/Katniss go into another Hunger Games, I came up with this where he does a swap. Dean's slavery for his family's safety, hence 'demon deal'. It's also loosely based after the end of Season 2 when Azazel makes Jake do his doing and threatens his family in the process. I actually thought the end of Season 2 before Sam was killed was just like a Hunger Games set up, Azazel orchestrating the whole 'only one can come out alive' debacle.**

**Now, I hope you understand the time jump that will be happening in the sequel. I am not going to write any chapters about Dean's time in the Capitol but I will include bits in flashbacks. And that awaited Sam and Dean reunion will take place in Chapter Two. Everyone will be older and nobody will really understand why Dean did what he did, nobody getting an explanation because Dean never returned home. **

**Anyway, reviews are loved. Even yelling and screaming will be fine. :)**

**I want to thank each and every one of you for being so wonderful from day one, especially neverendingwars, LiveLoveImagine, and DaughterofPosedian333. If there are any others that I missed, I am sorry but you know how much I love ya! **

**Onto the sequel! "carry on, my wayward son" is up right now! **


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